The Right Direction, Part 2
by JordanMcGee
Summary: Redemption or Retaliation?
1. Prologue

**The Right Direction: Part 2**

**Redemption or Retaliation?**

_**"**__**We're gonna take our boys and we're gonna get the hell out of here. Start fresh somewhere. Be a real family." **__**To his everlasting regret, Jax failed to honor that promise to Tara – and now she's gone, along with every hope he has for his own future. But he still has a chance to carry out what she risked everything to do: save their sons from a legacy of crime and violence. Or will he be derailed - by death or prison - as he pursues his murderous quest for vengeance?**_

"**Sons of Anarchy" belongs to Kurt Sutter. I own nothing (except my OC – who's inspired by a SOA character, can you guess who?).**

_AN:_

_Hi Friends, welcome to Part 2!_

_For those of you who haven't read Part 1, that's OK, you should be able to read Part 2 without it._

_As some of you know, I started writing this story out of disappointment (and absolute disgust) over S6; since I refuse to watch S7 (or even read recaps/reviews), creating this story is the only way I can say goodbye to my favorite TV couple._

_Part 2 has been outlined for months, and I wrote the Prologue and Epilogue before I started writing Part 1, so any similarities to anything happening/happened on the show are pure coincidence. That said, since I've always liked Annabeth Gish (especially her X-Files days), I've included Sheriff Althea Jarry vs. using the OC Sheriff that I'd originally intended. However, I have no idea what kind of characterization she has on the show so please don't be disappointed if my version of Sheriff Jarry is different._

_Finally, since Tara was - by far - my favorite character, there's no way I'm writing this without her. So expect a LOT of flashbacks._

* * *

><p><strong>PROLOGUE:<strong>

Taking a smoke break, Mo stands outside the garage and watches the car - obviously a rental - pull into the WH Motors' parking lot, wondering what the driver could possibly want. In his experience, most rental car drivers don't care about repairing a problem since they could always complain and get a different car. His curiosity's piqued even further as the driver steps out and starts looking around. Judging from his short and perfectly cut blond hair, pressed slacks, tweed jacket and expensive shoes - the guy's definitely not from around here.

Tweed Jacket (as Mo decides to call him) spots Mo immediately and starts walking towards him, pulling off his sunglasses as he approaches. There's something vaguely familiar about the twenty-something, tall, broad-shouldered stranger that Mo can't quite place so he waits for the guy to state his business in hopes that could jar his memory.

"Hi there, you know where I can find the owner of this place?" Instantly on alert, Mo stiffens, his fingers tightening around his cigarette. Most customers look for help from any of the employees, never asking for the owner or a manager unless there's a complaint. Since Mo's never seen this guy before, he doubts there's a complaint - rather another problem altogether. But he knows there's nothing to worry about with the auto shop; he and his business partner own this place outright and run a tight ship. The only drama in Mo's life has been with his dad, and he's been clean for years.

"You're looking at him," Mo informs the guy before taking a long drag off his cigarette. "Moby Harland; the H in WH Motors. How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Bobby Munson." Tweed Jacket surveys the parking lot and the open garage bays before turning his light blue eyes back on Mo. "I've been told that he hangs out here sometimes."

Narrowing his eyes, Mo switches on to high alert. Was Tweed Jacket some kind of cop or a fed? Bobby's definitely had some colorful history, but the he's harmless now. "Who's asking?" Crossing his arms, he glares at Tweed Jacket warningly.

"Let's just say I'm a friend of a friend." Tweed Jacket smiles and jams his hands into his pockets. "Look, I'm no threat - not a cop or any kind of law enforcement. I just want to talk to the man."

Mo regards him silently, trying to decide if the guy's on the level or full of shit; with a drug-addict father, he's more than used to the latter. "Well, 'friend of a friend,' Bobby's not here right now. Why don't you leave me a number you can be reached, and I'll give it to him the next time he's here."

Tweed Jacket hesitates, then sighing resignedly, he pulls out his wallet and extracts a business card. "I'm staying in town for a while so tell him to call the mobile number." With that, he turns and heads back to his rental; taking another long look around before getting in the car and driving off the lot.

Once the rental car disappears around the corner, Mo looks down at the thick white business card and nearly falls over. He practically runs to the office and throws the door open - startling the shit out of his partner, who's hunched over the desk reading spreadsheets. "What the hell, Mo?" Kenny growls at him.

"You will _never _fucking believe who was just here looking for Bobby." Mo hand him the business card, still buzzing in excitement over the discovery.

Kenny's eyes nearly bug out as he stares at the card, his mouth dropping open in shock. "Holy fucking shit."

Mo shakes his head - unable to believe what just happened, who he just met; "I thought he looked familiar; just like his old man - better dresser, though. Bobby's gonna freakin' love this."

"Yeah," Kenny agrees. "That…is an understatement. You should give him a call and tell him to get over here; don't tell him why - let it be a surprise."

As Mo skips off to call Bobby, Kenny looks back down at the card; tracing the embossed lettering, he smiles slowly, fondly. "Abel Teller, M.D. Your mom would be proud."


	2. Find Your Own Truth

_AN:_

_Thanks for all the great feedback on the Prologue! You guys are so great! However, I won't be picking up that thread until the Epilogue because we do need to find out what happens to Jax and Thomas (and Gemma). But hopefully I can make the journey interesting for you._

_Since this is new story territory, I'm going to write shorter chapters in an effort to update more frequently - don't want anyone to get lost (which always happens to me when I wait too long to read an update)._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: <strong>**FIND YOUR OWN TRUTH**

"_That was Rosen, Teller's attorney. They'll be here tomorrow morning at nine." Patterson hangs up the phone and fixes her gaze on the blond man sitting in one of her visitors' chairs - Nick Reese, the state's Chief Deputy Attorney General and her new partner in prosecuting Charming's most shocking double murder case in decades._

"_Good." He nods approvingly. "I think you should question him - he'll talk to you; Althea and I will watch from behind the interview glass."_

"_Althea?" Patterson wrinkles her brow questioningly. Who else was the AG going to assign to babysit her on this case?_

"_Lieutenant Althea Jarry." Reese hands her a file. "The new head of the San Joaquin Sheriff's Department, Charming-Morada Sub-Station. Eli Roosevelt's replacement and the lead investigator on this case, effective immediately."_

* * *

><p>The first time Jax remembers ever feeling this gut-wrenching pain that wracked his whole body, he was eight years old and it'd been completely his fault. His second grade class had gone on a field trip to Mercer Caverns and - although he'd been stoked to spend a school day out of school - walking around a cold, dark cave wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. Bored out of his mind (as their teacher had separated him and Opie to prevent the two of them from getting into trouble together) and inspired by <em>Raiders of the Lost Ark<em> (which his dad had just taken him, Opie and Tara to see at the dollar theatre), he'd used the lure of finding the bones of prehistoric animals or people to convince Tara, his field trip "buddy," to slip away from the group and explore on their own. He knew her drive to learn and shared fondness for Indiana Jones ran deeper than her regard for the rules. Unfortunately, their future as explorers got cut short when - ignoring Tara's warning to walk slowly near the edge - he slipped on a rock and tumbled hell knows how many feet down to the wide, rocky ledge below.

_It feels like his whole body's on fire; he can't move, can't even breathe without every inch of him screaming in pain. __Lying on the cold cave floor, Jax assures himself that he's still alive - otherwise he wouldn't be hurting like hell, and his ears wouldn't be ringing like a freakin' fire alarm. It's the sound of hysterical sobbing that finally penetrates the roaring in his head and forces him to open his eyes._

"_Wake up, Jax. Please wake up. Please, Jax. Please…" In the dim light he can see Tara on her knees beside him, swiping at the tears pouring down her face. Somehow she must've managed to scale down the steep and slick cave hill, foregoing safety in her panic to make sure he'd survived the fall._

"_I'm…okay," he wheezes, patting her leg reassuringly, then winces from the stabbing pain that shoots through his ribs. But his efforts produce the desired effect as she stops crying and clasps his hand, which - to his surprise - doesn't hurt at all._

"_Are you sure?" Worried green eyes scan him from head to toe. "You fell a long way and landed pretty hard."_

_Gritting his teeth, he tests different parts of his body with small movements to check what's still working. It stings like hell, but to his relief, most of him seems to be fine - except his left arm and shoulder, which he can't seem to move, and the constant, biting ache in his side._

"_Do you think you can climb up the hill?" Assessing the difficult climb, she looks at him doubtfully. "Or if you're okay, I can go for help."_

"_No!" He tightens his grip on her hand. Letting her go for help might be the smart thing to do, but he can't bear the idea of lying in the dark all alone. "Don't leave me…please, Tara." Crap, he's going to cry; he can feel his eyes start to sting and furiously blinks the tears away so she won't think he's a baby._

_Tara nods then flashes him a small smile that sends a comforting warmth coursing through him despite the coldness of the cave. "Okay." Stretching out beside him, she gives his hand a squeeze. _

_He doesn't know how long they lie there on the cold cave floor waiting to be rescued; it's weird, but somehow he's not freaked out about being lost and possibly injured - he still hurts all over, but now the pain's doesn't feel as bad as before. At first they try yelling at the top of their lungs for someone to find them - which doesn't last long because his chest starts to ache, and she realizes that they'll probably lose their voices if they continue. She reasons that since the cave walls echo, all they have to do is keep talking and their voices will carry - hopefully loudly enough for someone to overhear. It's a good plan, except all this talking makes his side ache even more._

_So she tells him about the book she just finished reading - the adventures of a poor farm boy who saved his money to buy two dogs and how the three of them became a champion raccoon hunting team. At first he wonders why the hell Tara would ever read a book about hunting raccoons, but then listening to her, he becomes engrossed in the story about bravery and loyalty, love and family. Listening intently to every detail, he begs her to tell him how it ends because there's no way he'd be able to wait long enough to read it himself. As she continues, the tears he'd fought earlier come back with a vengeance; his mom taught him about death a while ago - it's sad enough to make him cry, even though he can't imagine loving anyone so much that he'd rather die than live without them._

"_They say that red ferns aren't real," Tara tells him. "The book says there's an Indian legend about a little boy and girl who get lost in a blizzard and freeze to death; when their bodies are found, there's a big, beautiful red fern that's grown between them. According to the legend, only an angel can plant the seeds of a red fern - because where it grows, it'll never die because that place will always be sacred."_

_Jax stares at her and swallows hard. "Is that what you think will happen to us? That no one's going to find us until after we freeze to death in here?" He feels sick inside at the thought of never seeing his family or Opie again._

"_Nope." She reaches over to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes, which he finds oddly soothing (he usually hates it when people mess with his hair). "The whole class is probably looking for us now - and I'm sure your mom and dad and all their friends will be here to look for you, too. Don't be scared, Jax." He wants to argue that he's not scared, that he's too tough to be scared, but the words just won't come out; instead, he inches closer to her, relaxing as she squeezes his hand again and smiles at him. "Whatever happens, I'm right here."_

* * *

><p>"<em>Whatever happens, I'm right here."<br>_Ever since they were kids, Tara would say that to him any time she'd sense his anxiety. But the day they got lost in the cave - when he'd broken his ribs and left shoulder, when she'd curled up next to him on that cold cave floor and held his hand for hours - was the first time. There's nothing in the whole goddamn universe that he wouldn't give to hear her say it now…

Waking up alone in their bed, he feels like complete shit; his head's throbbing like a son-of-a-bitch, no doubt caused by the empty bottles of Jack and Jameson tossed on the floor. It's like right after Tara left him to go to college - when he'd get up up feeling like fucking death every morning for three years; hell, ever since the first time she invited his fifteen-year-old self to spend the night in her bed, he's never been able to sleep soundly without her next to him. And last night…the crushing realization that he'd never again feel her curled up next to him had smacked like an iron fist, over and over. More than once throughout the night, he'd thought about reaching for his gun instead of the bottles of whiskey. It was just the thought of their sons and the promise he'd made to Tara to take care of them that kept him from giving into his grief-fueled insanity.

"Jax!" Oh fucking hell. The sound of a slamming door and his mother's irate voice breaks through the pounding in his skull. Eyeing the clock on the nightstand, he realizes he only has a few minutes before Rosen's supposed to pick him up for the meet with Patterson. He really can't deal with Gemma's shit right now. Despite his body's aching protest, he pulls himself out of bed; good thing he'd passed out fully dressed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Gemma bursts into the room, her eyes wild with both anger and concern. "Your doctor never cleared you to leave."

"Morning to you, too, Mom." Squeezing her arm, he brushes past her to head for the bathroom. No time for a shower, which is just as well - he doesn't give a flying fuck about what Patterson thinks of his appearance. But maybe brushing his teeth will get the taste of shit out of his mouth.

She picks up one of the empty bottles from the floor before following him to the bathroom. Standing in the doorway, she glares at him, waving the empty bottle in his face. "Jesus Christ, Jackson - you just had a fucking heart attack that put you in a goddamn coma. What the hell are you trying…"

Ignoring her tirade, he spits out the toothpaste and splashes cold water on his face. "Where are the boys?"

The mention of her grandsons diffuses her temper somewhat. "Since I was under the impression that you were still flat on your back in the hospital, I checked Abel and Thomas into daycare before I came to see you. When your doctor told me that you took off, I left them there while I hunted down my idiot son."

He says nothing for a long moment, wiping his face with the towel. "How are they?" He'd asked about them before, but so caught up in his own pain, he didn't really listen to her response. Just that she had to tell them that their mommy was in heaven and not coming home again.

Gemma swallows hard as if trying to fight her own emotions. "They miss their mother," she replies simply. "And their father."

Jax grips the towel, not sure what to say; he's certainly no fucking rock of emotional strength right now. But fortunately, Rosen's sudden appearance saves him from having to come up with some bullshit response.

"The door was open…" The impeccably dressed attorney stops short as he assesses the tense scene in front of him: his disheveled client, who probably still reeks of trying to drown himself in whiskey, and his client's wild-eyed mother brandishing an empty Jack Daniels bottle. "Am I interrupting something?"

Shaking his head, Jax tosses the towel to the counter. "I'm ready." Turning to his mother, he pecks her on the cheek. "We're going over to talk to the DA. Leave the boys in day care. I'll pick them up this afternoon."

She scrambles after him as he starts to follow Rosen out the front door, grabbing his arm before he walks outside. "But Jax… You can't stay here. You can't let them stay here. Not after…"

Gently extricating himself from her grasp, he gives her shoulder another squeeze. "I appreciate everything you've done to take care of them, Mom. But I need to take it from here. That's what Tara would've wanted."

* * *

><p>In the journals he'd started writing for his sons, he once told them how hard it was for him not to hate; how he's seen the destruction caused by those who've let their hate change them into the things they've sworn they'd never be. There was a time in his life when he didn't hate his adversaries; they were just obstacles to be used andor dispatched as he did SAMCRO's business. But after the brutal chain of events leading to Tara's crushed hand and Opie's death, it'd become impossible not to give into the violent hate that burned inside of him - for Clay, for Pope and all the fuckers responsible for killing Opie, for Galen, for Wendy, for Toric…the fucking list kept growing.

Sitting in the DA's conference room, Jax glares at Patterson as the violent darkness surges inside him once again. He'd understood that she had a job to do in getting justice for four young victims of the school shooting, respected that she had the balls to confront him at Scoops on that fateful day - reminding him of his priorities as a husband and father. But what he can't forget or forgive - not in a million fucking years - was how she'd manipulated Tara's fear and desperation to further her own ends.

And now, even after hearing Jax recount the worst day of life - of his whereabouts after leaving the motel, of the blow-by-blow account of what he'd thought and what he'd done after coming home to the horror in his kitchen - she's refusing to disclose any leads or evidence they have about the case, spouting some fucked-up bullshit about him being a Person of Interest in the murders; that his alibi was useless because the SAMCRO President could order a hit as easily as he could order a pizza. It takes every fucking ounce of his goddamn self-control not to lunge across the table and choke the life out of the sanctimonious bitch.

As if sensing Jax's increasingly dangerous agitation, Rosen shoots him a quelling look - a silent reminder of what they'd discussed on the ride here. The lawyer warned that the DA would try to rile Jax into saying something that could hurt them, that even the most innocuous comment could be twisted into something that could land him in jail. Jax had scoffed, noting his long history with law enforcement assholes who'd tried and failed to get the better of him - only to be subdued into silence when Rosen quietly reminded him that none of those instances dealt with Tara's murder. _"She'll use your rage and your grief and spin that into guilt - guilt that could be convincingly played back to a grand jury. All she needs is an indictment, and that'll land you back in jail because of the parole violation." _

He manages to maintain a grim control over his temper for the rest of the meeting, responding to Patterson's questions with curt one-word answers, seething silently as she continues to side-step all of Rosen's questions about the investigation.

"I have to insist that you tell us the status of Tara's autopsy." Despite Patterson's refusal to divulge even the smallest of details regarding the case, Rosen seems unfazed in his determination to glean as much information as possible. "It's been a week; surely the medical examiner's office isn't that busy. My client would like to bury his wife."

Jax clenches his fists, once again fighting against the emotions that threaten to crush him; until this moment, he'd refused to talk or even think about burial arrangements for Tara - doing so seemed so brutally final. He can't fucking bear the idea of putting her into the ground.

"You know that autopsy reports usually take about six to eight weeks," Patterson replies. "However, due to the complexity of this case, it could take as long as 90 days before we can get final cause of death." She focuses her assessing gaze on Jax. "But the ME is finished with his exam. Your wife's body will be released to you within 48 hours."

* * *

><p>"What the fuck was the point of that little dance?" Jax rages as the elevator doors close; Christ, he hates lawyers - present company excepted, for now.<p>

Rosen shrugs. "It's clear that she's got nothing to pin the murders on you. Hell, I'm pretty sure she doesn't suspect you at all. You could've killed Tara when you found her in the park; instead you secured her freedom by agreeing to a deal that would've had you serving a couple of decades in prison. Patterson's many things, stupid isn't one of them."

Exiting the elevator, they spot a trio of SAMCRO members hovering near the building entrance. Rosen grabs Jax's arm before he can join them. "Everyone in this county knows you've been crazy in love with Tara since you guys were kids. I think Patterson's afraid of the bloodbath that's sure to come when you set SAMCRO on the course for retaliation. Maybe she believes locking you up is the only way to stop you from becoming California's most prolific serial killer…Jax, you need to be smart about this. Think about your kids."

Running his hand through his hair, Jax exhales loudly; the pounding in his head's returned with a vengeance. "Thanks. I'll be in touch."

"Yeah, call me later today. I need you to come to my office sometime in the next couple of days, we have some things to talk about."

Jax wrinkles his brow in confusion; fucking hell, he's got no more patience for this legal shit. He needs to spend time with his boys, plan their escape from this fucking town. "I thought you said she's got nothing on me."

"It's not about Patterson." Now it's Rosen's turn to exhale loudly. "Ally called me yesterday. She's got Tara's will."


	3. Taking Care of What's in Front of Me

**Chapter 2: TAKING CARE OF WHAT'S IN FRONT OF ME**

"_Well that was interesting." Sheriff Althea Jarry greets Patterson as the DA enters the observation room after spending the past two hours with the Biker King and his lawyer on the other side of the two-way mirror. "A couple times there I thought Teller was going to lose it, and we'd have to run in and save your ass."_

"_Glad to know you had my back," Patterson replies dryly. "The man's a ticking time bomb. We either need to find a way to send him back inside or break all speed records to find the person who killed his wife. Otherwise, I warn you that the body count will be beyond anything any of us has ever seen before."_

"_What do you think, Nick?" Jarry looks over at the man who's still staring at the now empty chair that Teller had occupied during the two hour interview. "Find some way to violate his parole as a civic safety measure?"_

_Reese remains silent, as if considering his answer; then turning to face the two women, he shakes his head slowly. "No. We'll continue to withhold any information pertaining to the case - having no leads should slow down his vigilantism and keep the good people of San Joaquin County safe for now. In the meantime, Althea, look into Roosevelt's jacket; see if anyone he'd put away is now tasting freedom thanks to the county's all-to-generous parole board."_

_Jarry and Patterson exchange looks; if there were any lingering questions as to who'd be calling the shots on this case, they were gone now. "You got it, boss." Jarry nods at him and then Patterson before exiting the room._

* * *

><p>"For a man who looked like he was at death's door a couple of days ago…" Bobby pulls Jax into a bear hug. "You look like a man at death's door. And smell like a distillery."<p>

"Fuck off." Jax manages a small smile before turning to hug Chibs then Tig. "Gemma tell you I'd be here?" No doubt after he left with Rosen, his mother probably called the ice cream shop to tell the guys so they'd have his back after the meet with the DA.

Nodding, Chibs eyes him critically. "Bobby's right. You look like shit, Jackie. What the hell are you doing out of the hospital?"

"Got tired of the food," Jax snaps at him. "Look, I don't need a bunch of fucking blue hairs nagging at me. I'm fine."

"Are you?" Bobby asks quietly, his gentle tone causes Jax to stiffen and look away, suddenly unable to bear the grief in their eyes - it would break him, and he can't keep walking around like a goddamn wounded animal. Not when there's too much to do, too much at stake.

Jamming his hands in his pockets, he squares his shoulders and faces his Brothers. "Look, I appreciate the concern. But really, I'm fine. And that's even after spending the last couple of hours getting grilled by our friendly DA."

"About what?" Bobby grouses incredulously. "She can't possibly think you had anything to do with what happened to Tara or Roosevelt. And you were with us when…when…it happened. Hell, we all told her that when you were in the hospital."

Jax shakes his head. "Rosen thinks she's trying to find a way to send me back inside before I can find the person who killed Tara; afraid it'll get bloody."

"Before _we_ find him…" Tig clarifies, his blue eye hard, as Bobby and Chibs nod grimly in agreement. "We're in this too, Brother. And it _will_ get bloody."

Bobby's phone rings before Jax can respond. "It's Barosky," Bobby tells them before stepping away to take the call. Just as well, he's not ready to talk about his plans yet - not even to his Brothers.

Turning to Chibs and Tig, he steers them away from talk of retaliation. "By the way, thanks for getting Rosen back on board." Jax knows he's damn lucky that Rosen agreed to represent him after the long-time SAMCRO lawyer moved on to bigger fish, not to mention after Jax'd terrified Lowen into leaving town. "He's still a pompous prick, but the fucker knows what he's doing."

Chibs shakes his head. "We didn't hire him; didn't even get the chance. He showed up at the hospital not too long after you did. Gemma must've called him." Nodding, Jax makes a mental note to thank his mom for calling in a favor from the man she's known since he was a kid.

Bobby hangs up the phone and walks back towards them, a thoughtful frown furrowing his face. "Barosky heard from one of his cop friends that we've got a new Sheriff in town, fresh from the Stockton Organized Crime Unit. And her number one priority is to find Eli Roosevelt's killer. And Tara's, of course."

"Her?" Tig smirks. "We got a Sheriff in a skirt? Sounds fun."

"Althea Jarry." Bobby informs them. "Apparently she and Charlie are _not_ members of each other's fan clubs; had more than a few run-ins when he was still with the PD. Which means she's probably not so flexible with the rule book."

"Great, just what we need…another Hale." Chibs scowls. "When does she start?"

"According to Barosky's source, she's already here." Bobby fixes his gaze on Jax. "Word around Stockton PD is that Roosevelt's murder riled up a lot of the state's top brass. Jarry was handpicked. Sounds like maybe they're thinking Roosevelt was the primary target."

Jax flashes back to the meeting with Patterson and the long rectangular mirror he'd faced the entire time; no doubt the new Sheriff was on the other side, taking in the show. "Maybe. Rosen and I went to see Cain yesterday." He doesn't think telling his Brothers equates to breaking his word not to divulge what the deputy disclosed; it's not like any of them would go squealing to the DA. "Cain said he heard that the Attorney General sent one of her minions to babysit Patterson on the case. Rosen thinks the state might use this to get the death penalty back in play - at least for cop killing." He feels sick at the thought that Tara might've been collateral damage in some sick fuck's plan to kill Roosevelt; there could've been so many other times to take down the Sheriff without robbing two little boys of their mother - without robbing him of his future. Once again, the murderous rage and thirst for blood-soaked revenge bubble to the surface; it's everything he can do to force it down.

"Well, we'll just have to be careful." Chibs rubs Jax's shoulder. "We'll find who did this to Tara, Jackie. He'll pay…"

Jax doesn't tell them about his decision to put his sons ahead of retaliation; that after the coroner releases Tara's body to him, he's taking the boys and getting the hell out of Charming. He knows that they'll be stunned and likely pissed, but they'd let him go; it's brutal irony that Tara's death would be the one thing that could set him free. Instead he remains silent, there's a few things he needs to do before putting his plan into motion.

* * *

><p>The meeting with Patterson wasn't a complete time suck; Jax did learn that Tara's body was still at the Coroner's Office, and that the physical exam was finished. That means the Medical Examiner could tell him exactly how Tara died; Jax doesn't need to wait for a final autopsy report with the tox screen - with so much of her blood spattered all over their kitchen, he knows that she hadn't died from some drug or poison.<p>

He begs off a Church meeting claiming to be tired, but after the guys drop him off at home, he jumps on his bike and heads off to Stockton. Willing or not, the ME's going to tell Jax what he wants to know.

After parking his bike, he heads to the back of one of the buildings. Most normal people wouldn't have a working knowledge of the Sanwa Sheriff's offices, but Jax isn't exactly like most normal people. Back in the days when they used to work with Trammel, the late Sheriff would more or less tell him and Clay everything about how the different offices ran, including how to break into the ME's lab (which they had to do a couple of times on Club business). And after a few minutes of close observation, Jax could tell nothing's changed; employees still didn't lock the side door next to the ME's lab so that they could grab quick smoke breaks.

Slipping through the unlocked door, Jax finds his target almost immediately - recognizing the skinny, balding man from Diosa; Barosky had pointed him out as one of the various community leaders who frequented the Stockton whorehouse. Walking up behind the man, Jax grabs his arm and hisses in his ear. "We need to talk…somewhere private." Jax can tell the man's about to protest so he tightens his grip. "Right now…unless you want your wife to know where you spend your Tuesday nights."

The ME stiffens then nods, leading Jax into a small lab further away from all the other offices. "Who are you?" Glaring at Jax, he rubs his arm. "What do you want? You're not supposed to be in here."

"Who I am is not important," Jax tells him coldly. "All I want to know is cause of death for Tara Knowles. And don't feed me any bullshit about waiting for the final report. You know what killed her." Jax taps his fingers across the knife strapped to his pants. "And if you're smart…you'll tell me, and then we can forget all about this little meeting."

The man's eyes widen in fear and then recognition. "You're that biker! Dr. Knowles' husband…"

Before Jax can reply, the door opens and a tall, blond man he's never seen before steps inside. "Well, this is…not a surprise. Run along, Dr. Morris - Lieutenant Jarry's looking for you. I can continue this conversation with Mr. Teller." But before the ME can scurry away, the other man blocks his exit. "Let's just keep this incident to the three of us, understood?" The cold menace in the man's tone belies the polite request, and Dr. Morris - no doubt anxious to get away - nods vigorously before practically running out of the room.

Jax eyes the stranger warily; the man's too well-dressed, too perfectly groomed to be from around here. Not even Rosen wears suits and shoes like this guy. Then suddenly it hits him who the man could be… "Let me guess, you're Patterson's state appointed babysitter." No point in dancing around what he knows; apparently the guy's not here to bust him or he wouldn't have told the ME to keep silent.

The man's blue eyes widen slightly before he recovers with a humorless chuckle. "I've been called many things, Mr. Teller, but 'babysitter' has never been on the list. Name's Nick Reese." He extends a hand, which Jax shakes warily. "I'm the AG's Chief Deputy. You can say, I'm here to offer my assistance."

So another fucking politician seeking the spotlight at Tara's expense; Jax's blood boils as he tamps down the urge to grab his knife and shove it into the bastard's goddamn face.

"So much rage." Reese's stares at him intently, a cold smile spreading across his face. "That's good. Very good."

The tiny thread holding on to Jax's patience snaps. "Listen, I don't know what your fucking game is with the DA; I don't give a shit. All I want is to find out what happened to my wife. And you've got about ten seconds to tell me before…"

"Eli Roosevelt wasn't the primary target. He was shot in the back, a quick and relatively painless end - compared to what happened to…Dr. Knowles." There's something in the man's tone that sets off Jax's warning senses, but before he can identify it, Reese drops the bomb that obliterates the fragile grip Jax's had on his control. "Dr. Knowles' killer had tried to drown her in the sink, and when she tried to fight it…the killer stabbed her in the back of the head - _six_ times. And with enough force to crack her skull."

Jax's seen more than his share of brutal, grisly death - a lot of it done by his own hand. But for a few exceptions, like the bloody ends he'd meted out to the bastards who killed Opie and the psycho ATF agent who terrorized Tara, he'd be lying if he claimed those deaths didn't haunt him - only Tara had always known_. "I know the turmoil you live with, Jax. I feel the pain you wake up with every day." _ But this… Holy Fucking Christ…there's no fucking living with this. His knees buckle, forcing him to grab the lab table to keep from falling to the ground. Cradling his head in his hands, he's suddenly swamped with images of her…

…saving his eight-year-old ass from a bully with a water-gun filled with salt water  
>…beaming up at him when he told her he loved her for first time<br>…smiling softly as she pressed his hands against her pregnant belly so they could feel their baby move inside her  
>…glowing with love as he finally slid a wedding ring on to her finger<p>

And then, there's nothing but blood - Tara's blood - all over the kitchen, all over his hands and clothes when he'd held her…  
>Completely losing his shit, he swings his arms widely across the lab table - sending all the contents shattering and spilling on to the floor. Picking up a stool, he hurls it across the room to smash a glass cabinet, triggering an alarm. It's the loud, shrill sound that penetrates the rage-fueled fog in Jax's brain, stopping him in his tracks. Clutching the lab table, he closes his eyes and tries to control his ragged breathing.<p>

"You'd better get out of here, before those hayseed deputies remember how to do their jobs." Suddenly remembering that he's not alone, Jax looks around wildly until he meets the icy blue gaze of the man who'd thoroughly and excruciatingly destroyed any hope he'd had of keeping his pain and rage and hate in check. There's no fucking way, no goddamn fucking way he can walk away from Charming until he finds and butchers Tara's murderer. As if approving the turn of Jax's murderous thoughts, Reese smiles slowly before looking out into the hallway and signaling to him that all was clear. "Go now. I'll be in touch. We have some work to do."

* * *

><p>"<em>But I want to go with you, Mommy." Blue eyes filling with tears but no less defiant, Abel ignores Bobby's promise of both ice cream and cookies, refusing to unclasp his arms from around Tara's leg. "Please."<em>

_Jax watches as Tara, holding Thomas, crouches down on one knee to be eye level with their oldest son. Despite the grimness of his situation - he's about to meet with the DA about a deal that'll send him to prison for years - a slight smile tugs at his lips as Abel throw his arms around his mother and little brother, burying his face into her shoulder. Pretty much since birth, Abel's harbored a strong attachment to the beautiful doctor who'd eventually become his mother. Jax's often wondered if it was a bond that forged when Tara, the gifted surgeon, had literally saved the baby's life. Then sometimes, in his rare fanciful moods, he wonders if his own bone-deep love for her had passed on to his son - actually both of his sons, as Thomas also seems to share his father and brother's fascination for the same woman._

"_It won't be long, baby, I promise." Tara soothes him, running her fingers through his blond hair as Abel lifts his head from her shoulder. "Mommy and Daddy need to meet with someone for just a little bit. Then Daddy'll come by to play with you and Thomas. I'll pick you up later and…" She flashes Abel an impish smile that sets Jax's heart pounding. "We can have breakfast for dinner!"_

_The little boy's tears vanish, replaced by an excited smile. "Pancakes?" he asks hopefully, his small hand still clutching her arm._

"_Double pancakes." She ups the ante, much to Abel's delight. "Now do you remember what we talked about this morning? We're not going on our trip anymore, but I still need you to do me that favor." _

_Jax can't help but smile again as Abel nods solemnly and peers into Thomas' face, finger-combing the baby's hair just like he's probably seen Tara do to all three Teller men. "I'm the big brother."_

"_That's right, baby. And I'm the luckiest Mommy in the universe." Tara squeezes both boys tight. "I love you both, so much. So much."_

Sitting in the St. Thomas parking lot, Jax wonders once again how in hell he'll be able to face his sons, knowing that it was his fault that their mother was dead. It'd been painful enough to suspect that she'd been killed because of some connection to SAMCRO, but now knowing for certain was eating him alive. Especially knowing how she'd died…

After destroying the ME's lab, he'd raced out of the Sheriff's building - only to puke his guts out the second he got outside. Then he'd jumped on his bike, gunning up to max speeds - daring either the cops to arrest him or the road to take him, he really didn't give a shit. It wasn't until later, after answering a call from Rosen, when he'd finally pulled his head out of his ass. Listening to the lawyer tell him about tomorrow's meet with Lowen to discuss Tara's will forced him think of his boys and the promise he'd made to raise them away from Charming. He can't fulfill that promise if he's lying bloody and dead on the road.

Entering the hospital, he heads for the daycare, trying desperately not to think about all the happier times he'd walked these halls eager to spend time with Tara. So intent at trying to block out memories, he doesn't notice Margaret Murphy until she grabs his arm and pulls him around to face her.

"Sorry, but I really need to talk to you before you pick up the boys." She releases his arm and steps back. "I'm not sure what Gemma's been able to tell you, but…"

Frowning, he glances over at the entrance to the daycare; dread and panic filling him at the thought that one or both of his sons could be hurt. "What is it? Is something wrong with Abel or Thomas?" He stares hard at Tara's former boss, trying to interpret the concern on her face.

Hesitating for a moment, Margaret guides him to sit down in one of the chairs next to the daycare entrance. "Their mother's death hit both boys very hard. Thomas is too young to understand what happened, but he doesn't miss her any less. The daycare manager told me that he cries all the time, won't go down for naps and sometimes refuses to eat."

"Jesus…" Jax breathes harshly, burying his face in his hands.

"And then there's Abel…" Alarmed by the tone in her voice, he glances up, heart sinking at the troubled look on her face. "Jax, he's stopped talking. Gemma told me that he's not said a word since she told him about Tara. She's worried, Jax. We all are."

Jax runs a hand across his face; it crushes him to know about his sons' pain, although he can't say he's surprised given his own anguish - they'd all lost the person they loved the most; there's no fucking way to recover from that quickly, if at all. "Thanks for letting me know," he tells her quietly. "I'm going to take them home now. And if you're okay with it, I'll bring them back tomorrow."

"Of course," she replies quickly. "I told you that they're always be welcome here."

* * *

><p>"So I was thinking, maybe we could have pancakes for dinner. Sound good?" Jax glances into the rearview mirror at Abel, trying anything to get a reaction from his young son. He may as well have been fucking talking to himself as Abel remains silent, his gaze focused out the window.<p>

Despite Margaret's head's up about his sons' troubles, going into the daycare had been a jarring experience. Ever since he'd learned to walk, Abel had always run to greet him, leaping into his arms with happy cries of "Daddy!" Not this time. His son barely acknowledged him, didn't even move when Jax crouched down to hug him. And Thomas, Jesus Christ…Jax's always loved that his baby boy inherited Tara's gorgeous mossy green eyes. But staring into those same eyes had nearly driven Jax to his knees.

Giving up at trying to engage Abel, he drives them home in silence; his mind completely focused on _not _dwelling on the crushing revelation around Tara's death. He can't bear to think about what she might've suffered in her final minutes, especially not with the boys in the car; he can't lose control in front of them. Instead he fixes his thoughts on Chief Deputy AG, Nick Reese. What the fuck was the guy's angle? Going behind the DA's back to feed Jax the truth about Tara and Roosevelt's deaths, was he baiting some kind of trap where he needed to see Jax's grief and rage up close? In his call with Rosen this afternoon, he didn't mention the run-in with Reese, but tomorrow, he'll grill both Rosen and Lowen on what they know about the AG's slick golden boy.

Turning on his street, he spots his mother's car in the driveway and groans silently. He truly appreciates everything she's done for him and his boys, but he doesn't have the fucking energy to deal with any of her shit right now. Also, after putting the boys to bed, he needs to start thinking more about the plan to leave Charming and The Sons - and how his burning need to exact retaliation for Tara will fit into those plans. He knows it'll kill Gemma to be left behind, but he owes it to Tara to honor what she wanted - for the boys to grow up far away from SAMCRO and far away from Gemma because, in Tara's mind, one fueled the other.

After pulling Thomas out of the back seat, he goes to the other side to release Abel from his car seat; he'd barely finished unbuckling all the straps when his son springs out of the seat and out of the car. "Abel!" Jax shouts, not sure where the little boy might run; his shoulders slump in relief when Abel darts up the front steps and starts pounding on the door.

Carrying Thomas, Jax reaches the front stoop just as his mother opens the door. "What the hell…" Gemma sputters as Abel pushes past her and takes off down the hall towards his room. Except he doesn't go to his room. Eyes stinging, Jax swallows hard as Abel pushes open the door to his parents' bedroom and rushes inside, "Mommy! Mommy!"

"Oh, Jesus." Gemma whispers hoarsely. "I told you that you can't let them stay here…We have to take them back to my place now."

Handing Thomas to her, he shakes his head. "Leave it alone, Mom. We're staying here." Taking off after Abel, he pauses in his bedroom doorway, heart pounding as he watches his son standing by the bed, desperately scanning every inch of the room for where Tara could possibly be hiding.

Running his hands through his hair, Jax walks into the room and crouches next to his distraught son, rubbing the little boy's shaking shoulder. "Hey," he whispers gently. "Look, buddy. Mommy's not here. Grandma told you she went to heaven and…" But Abel doesn't let him finish, bolting to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

Sighing heavily, Jax trudges out into the hallway towards Gemma, who's still standing in the same spot by the front door, as if frozen in place. "What're we going to do, Jackson?" She swipes the tears in her eyes as Jax takes Thomas from her.

"Do?" He hisses as the all-too-familiar rage burns through him again. "I'm going to find the monster who took her from them…" He glances at Abel's closed door while squeezing Thomas tight against him. "…and from me. And when I do…he'll feel Tara's pain, all of our pain. Believe me, Mom, compared to that, hell will be paradise."


	4. Every Day Is a New Box

**AN: This chapter includes a flashback inspired by a deleted scene from "Brick" (4x5). It's one of my favorites (thus the reason for my photo avatar); never understood why KS cut it out of the episode.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: EVERY DAY IS A NEW BOX<strong>

_Lieutenant Althea Jarry shakes her head as she stares at the mountain of files stacked in front of two deputies, who've done nothing but read reports from the pile for the past few hours. Nick Reese had ordered them to scour Roosevelt's jacket, a body of work that included over 15 years in Oakland before he got promoted to San Joaquin County Sheriff. Frankly, it's a fucking waste of time; she knows that Tara Knowles had to be the primary victim given the savagery of her murder compared to Eli's. It doesn't make sense that someone who had a grudge against Eli to kill him quickly but then torture-kill the innocent woman with him. _

_But both Reese and his boss, the Attorney General, define the term "political animal"; no doubt they see something here that's fueling their ambitions for state law and for their careers. She doesn't know Reese well, but she's heard enough about him - good and bad - to know that the man doesn't do a damn thing without a larger purpose. The violent murder of a decorated cop - not to mention a doctor and mother of two small boys - well that could have death penalty judicial review all over it. _

_Closing her eyes, she tries to erase the images of the bloody crime scene from her mind as anger and regret pierce her once again. Eli was one of the best - a good guy and a great cop; he didn't fucking deserve this, especially after all he'd been through with losing Rita and their unborn baby. As for Dr. Knowles, holy hell…no one deserved that._

"_Hey boss, check this out…" One of the deputies hands her a file folder. "This report wasn't found with the others…I remember a while ago Roosevelt had something on this guy, but I don't know more than that 'cause he kept us out of the loop. Looks like he was working with the feds."_

_Jarry thanks him and takes the file, dubiously eyeing the single sheet of paper until she spots the infamous acronym "SAMCRO" and a single name scrawled at the top of the page: "Juan Carlos Ortiz." _

* * *

><p>"I said it before, and I'll say it again - you look like shit. Are you sure you're okay?"<p>

Jax runs a shaky hand through his wet hair; the shower he'd finally taken hasn't done shit to make him feel better. His head's pounding like a son-of-a-bitch while his stomach churns violently, like he could fucking heave at any second - puking up the bottle of Wild Turkey 101 that he drank for dinner last night. And when he'd looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, he saw the ravaged face of a man who's aged a hundred years in the past few days. So no, he's not fucking okay - he's just not admitting shit to Bobby. "I'm fine," he mutters.

Bobby eyes him doubtfully but doesn't argue, probably knowing it'd get him nowhere. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that I know shit about what you're going through right now…Just remember that we're here for you, Brother - anything you need, you just have to ask."

Nodding, Jax forces a strained smile. "I know," he replies softly. No doubt Bobby and the others have felt his distance - that they've noticed he hasn't set foot in the ice cream shop nor returned any of their calls since getting out of the hospital. And last night he was supposed to call Chibs to check in; however, reeling from the devastating discoveries about Tara and his sons, all he'd managed to do was feed his boys and put them to bed before shuttering himself in his bedroom to find escape in a bottle of 100 proof bourbon.

So he'd not been surprised this morning to find Bobby at his front door with a bag of freshly made muffins in hand. Usually it amused Jax when his bad-ass Brother would go into domestic baking mode, but now since he's got no fucking sense of humor and no fucking appetite, a weak murmur of thanks was all he could muster when he let Bobby inside.

The older man must've had plans to spend some time playing fun Uncle Bobby with Abel and Thomas because he'd been visibly disappointed when Jax said he'd already taken the boys to daycare. Jax doesn't tell him that he would've been more disappointed when the little boys ignored his overtures, like they did with their own father. Abel continued to remain silent, picking listlessly at his food, while Thomas had cried himself to sleep last night and then again almost non-stop this morning. As much as he loves his sons - they're all he has left now - he'd been almost relieved to turn them over to the daycare manager; it's fucking unbearable to see his own pain mirrored in their faces.

"So we're having Church in an hour," Bobby announces, wolfing down a muffin. "Would be really good to have you back at the head of the table, Brother. Where you belong." It hadn't escaped Jax's notice that, in addition to the bag of muffins, Bobby also brought the leather cut that Jax'd left on the ground at St. Thomas - the President's patch still intact.

Ignoring the cut and the muffin that Bobby pushes in his direction, Jax shakes his head. "Can't. Got to head over to Rosen's office now to meet with him and Lowen. She's got Tara's will." He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what that might entail. Jesus, it's fucking hard enough to get through each day knowing that Tara's gone, but these constant reminders of what he'd lost was slowly killing him.

Then like yesterday in the DA's parking lot, Bobby's eyes fill with grief, once again proving to Jax that he and his sons aren't the only ones suffering the pain of Tara's death. Feeling Bobby's hand clamping his shoulder, Jax meets his friend's intent stare. "Have you thought about what you want to do…with Tara? You know, it's okay if you don't think you can handle making the arrangements. It's fucking hard when it's someone that close. If you need us, we can do that for you."

"Thanks, man." Jax grips the hand Bobby placed on his shoulder. "Rosen said Lowen needed to talk to me about Tara's will before the coroner releases…Tara… tomorrow. Maybe she'd already made arrangements." Although Jax hates the idea that Tara might've anticipated her own death, it wouldn't have surprised him given the letter she'd written him right before she died. _"…once I was convicted and sent back inside, I knew I wouldn't be coming home again."_

Bobby nods somberly as they walk out the door to the bikes parked in the driveway. "Ok. Just let us know what we can do, Brother. Anything…"

"I will," Jax promises, straddling his bike. He's about to fasten his helmet when Bobby grabs his arm, forcing him to meet his old friend's concerned brown eyes.

"There's one more thing…Look, I know I'm about the last person who should be lecturing anyone about hitting the bottle when they shouldn't be. Tara gave me hell for drinking and smoking after she took those slugs out of my shoulder." Bobby smiles sadly. "Don't think I've forgotten how fucking bad you got after she left for college. And this…well I can't imagine anything could feel worse for you than this. But you got those boys to think about…" He waves aside Jax's attempt to defend himself. "A long time ago, I knew a guy who lost his wife and tried to find relief from the pain at the bottom of a bottle. Problem was that he never stopped, and no one suffered more for it than his little girl." Bobby shoots him a meaningful look before he starts his bike then takes off down the street.

Stunned, Jax sinks down on his bike, staring sightlessly down the street as Bobby disappears around the corner. Last night he knew it was completely fucked-up to get obliterated with his sons asleep down the hall, but just like the night before, the intense pain had clawed at him until only the bottle could bring relief. The pounding in his head grows louder as he flashes back to memories of Frank Knowles stumbling around town in a drunken stupor, screaming abusive obscenities at his only child, passing out in public places - of the ugly, painful looking bruises on Tara's arms and face…Holy shit.

Rubbing his blood-shot eyes, Jax silently vows to toss the booze that's left in the house. There's no way, no fucking way he'll let himself turn into that goddamn bastard. He won't do that to his boys, won't do that to Tara. Feeling his phone vibrate, he pulls it out of his pocket; glancing at Rosen's name flashing across the screen, he hits the answer button and tells the lawyer that he's on his way.

* * *

><p>Jax's known Ally Lowen for years, and although she'd always been tighter with Tara, they'd always gotten along. That is until that day from hell when he'd threatened her until she confirmed Tara's secret plan to divorce him and hand custody of their boys to Wendy. Apparently, he'd terrified her enough to leave town, forcing Tara to hire another lawyer to fight the criminal charges against her for Pamela Toric's murder. But now Lowen's back temporarily, apparently determined to set aside her fear of him to ensure that he honor Tara's last wishes.<p>

Sitting down at the table in Rosen's personal conference room, he nods at her in greeting - only to receive a cold glare in return. No doubt, Rosen's former partner believes him guilty of Tara's murder; either by killing her himself or causing it to happen by constantly putting her in harm's way. Like Margaret Murphy, Lowen may despise him and wish him dead instead of Tara, but neither woman could possibly hate him more than he hates himself.

In stark contrast to Lowen's open animosity, Rosen eyes him with worried concern. "Jesus, Jax you look like hell. Maybe you need to go back to the hospital, have the doctor take a look at you. We can always do this at another time…"

"No." Jax shuts him down firmly; he's fucking sick of people harping on his health. Although he may look and feel like complete shit, he's not the goddamn fragile piece of glass that his mom, his Brothers and his lawyer seem to see when they look at him. He's got a lot to do in the next few days, and there's no fucking way he'll let anyone derail him. "Let's get this done."

Rosen stares at him for a long moment - as if debating whether to concede or argue - then nods at Lowen, signaling for her to begin. She shoots Jax one more baleful glare before opening the manila folder in front of her and pulling out a thick stack of paper. When she looks back up at him, he's surprised at the quick shift from open hostility to impassive professionalism.

But Lowen's unexpected change in demeanor was fucking nothing compared to the series of staggering revelations that wound up knocking Jax on his ass. Although Tara's will was originally dated not long after her stay in Stockton, she'd set the wheels in motion years before.

He'd been floored by the discovery that she'd started a trust account for Abel right after Jax'd brought him home from Ireland, even before Wendy transferred custodial rights. Suddenly he's swamped by images of Tara visiting him in Stockton: pale and exhausted from dealing with pregnancy and parenting a toddler by herself, working too many goddamn double shifts in order to make ends meet - and apparently to secure their son's future…make that sons' futures as she'd started an identical trust for Thomas just a few days after his birth.

"Tara didn't have a lot to start with given that she wasn't making much as a resident when she opened Abel's trust and had just earned her surgical board certificate when Thomas was born. However, she steadily added what she could to both accounts, although now…" Lowen's voice breaks while Jax closes his eyes as it hits them both that Tara won't be making any more regular contributions. "…now the boys' share of her life insurance policy will go into those accounts. So even if there are no further deposits, the compounded interest alone should result in significant annual growth. By the time each boy is eighteen and able to access his trust account, the annual distributions should be quite considerable."

When Jax got out of Stockton and proposed to Tara, he'd told her that he couldn't live off his wife - had insisted on supporting them with his earnings from The Club. He never asked what she wound up doing with her doctor's salary; now he knows.

Meeting Lowen's steady gaze, he's surprised by the soft empathy in her eyes - as if she'd read enough in his expression to realize how much he was dying inside. "Jax, you know she wanted Abel and Thomas to have choices - that SAMCRO didn't have to be their future. And if they do decide on a different path and go to college, she didn't want them to struggle with money like she did." Given that, it doesn't surprise him to learn that Tara had named both Lowen and Margaret Murphy as the trustees for the boys' trust accounts.

Weeks ago he might've been furious that Tara had done all of this behind his back, that she'd empowered non-family members to have any say regarding his sons' futures. Now he's filled with stunned, grief-tinged gratitude; cruel fate had robbed his baby boys of the exceptional woman who'd been their mother, yet in the brutally short time they'd had together, Tara managed to set their sons on a path to a more promising future.

Lowen gives him more information regarding the boys' trust accounts and his responsibilities as the surviving parent. It reminds him of the guardianship papers he'd signed, naming Wendy as the boys' guardian if anything happened to him or Tara. His nose wrinkles in disgust at the idea of it, especially since Gemma told him that the fucking junkie piece of shit was back in rehab. Surely, Tara would agree with the decision to tear up those papers and find someone else more worthy of their boys (which could be anyone else - Wendy was dog shit in his eyes).

As if reading his mind, Lowen pulls out another set of documents from her pile. It's the guardianship papers he'd signed with the word "VOID" stamped in red ink on each page. "Tara called me not long after you signed these. Said Wendy wasn't to be trusted with the boys and that she had another option. But we never got the chance to make the revision…"

Jax nods and swallows hard. "I'm pretty sure I know who she has in mind. But I'd like to talk to her before we put anything in writing. That okay with you?"

"It's okay unless you're talking about your mother. You know Tara wouldn't…"

"Believe me, it's not," Jax assures her. "Gemma loves her grandsons, but I know Tara didn't want them growing up with her. I can honor that."

"Then it's okay with me," Lowen replies. Then pulling the last sheet of paper out of her file, she takes a long look at the document before turning back to Jax. "Did you and Tara ever talk about final arrangements for one another?"

Despite the violence that had surrounded his life since he earned his Prospect patch, he'd never given any thought to his own death or what would happen to him after he met the Reaper. Probably because he risked death so many times, he never wanted to think about it; he certainly never wanted to think of Tara dying. Jax shakes his head, although during last night's bourbon-fest, it'd hit him what he should do.

Exhaling loudly, Lowen hands him the final document. "During her medical internship in Chicago, Tara signed these papers donating her remains to the medical school for…"

"That's not fucking going to happen!" Jax savagely rips the document into shreds then throws the pile of torn paper at Lowen. "No way, no goddamn way anyone's going to dissect her or…" Fuck, he's so furious at the idea he can barely speak.

"Jax, it's what she wanted," Lowen reminds him. "Tara was a doctor; she…"

"I said NO! Fuck NO!" He slams his hand loudly on the table, causing Lowen to jump in her seat as fear spreads across her face. Jax leaps to his feet and stalks away from the table, trying to control his anger. Of course Dr. Knowles the surgeon would have a clinical, practical view of how her remains could further scientific study. But Jax's never liked anyone touching his girl while she was alive, that's not fucking changing now.

In the corner of his eye, he watches Rosen toss the shredded paper into the trashcan as the lawyer attempts to reinstate peace between his agitated client and petrified ex-partner. "Look, it's been years since Tara signed that consent form. And the medical school is in Chicago. Given the time elapsed as well as the distance, I doubt the school will enforce the claim - especially since her husband's clearly reluctant to honor the agreement. That said…" Rosen looks at Jax pointedly. "You'd better do what you plan to do before the news about Tara spreads to them."

* * *

><p>"Thanks for staying." Rosen returns to the conference room after walking Lowen out to the lobby. "I won't keep you long; there's a couple more things I wanted to go over with you without Ally here…like what I learned about the AG's involvement in Tara's case."<p>

Shit, he'd got so caught up in the surprises from Tara's will and his rage over the fucked-up plan to donate her body, he'd forgotten to ask the lawyers about the mysterious Nick Reese. But now that Rosen's brought it up, Jax thinks maybe it's better not to reveal that he'd met the Chief Deputy AG while threatening the county medical examiner. He decides to keep silent with what he knows for now - at least until he meets the cryptic state's attorney again and finds out what the hell game he's playing.

Shaking his head, Rosen plops down into the chair and sighs loudly. "Cane said he heard that the AG sent in someone with enough juice to reign in Patterson; he wasn't kidding. Shit, Teller, you've hit the big time with this one. Have you ever heard of a man named Nicholas Reese? He's the reigning golden boy in the AG's office and heir apparent to the top job when his boss wins the Governor's race in the next election. Hell, in a few years, Reese will probably be Governor."

Feigning nonchalance, Jax shakes his head and shrugs his stiffening shoulders. "Nah. State politics isn't exactly high on my list of hobbies."

"Well then you might want to broaden your interests." Rosen runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "I've known Nick for a few years. He's a complete and total prick - and unfortunately, one of the smartest guys I've ever met. The AG must really see something big in this case to send him here."

"_I'll be in touch. We have some work to do."_ Whatever that "something big" is, it's clear Reese needs Jax's help to get it done. Otherwise, why else would he disclose the carefully guarded truth about the brutality of Tara's murder to incite Jax's fury? "_So much rage…That's good. Very good."_

"It's got to be about the death penalty." Rosen muses aloud. "California politics might not be your thing…but the current regime - from the Governor on down want capital punishment back in play. And for the AG and Reese, well it's been quite the crusade…"

Anger swamps Jax once again; if that fucking son-of-a-bitch plans to use Tara's murder - exploit the pain of her loss - to further his political ambitions, Jax will make sure the man understands first-hand what that agony feels like.

"If memory serves, the AG's brother was a cop in Oakland when he died on the job a few years ago; she's been on a mission to crush cop killers ever since. If there's a connection with her brother and Roosevelt, then this prosecution could be a personal vendetta as well. I'll keep digging." Rosen shoots him a wary look, no doubt sensing Jax's swelling anger. "In the meantime, stay out of trouble. You don't want to fuck with Reese, Jax. He's not like one of the bumbling law enforcement types you've dealt with around here. Patterson's looking for a way to lock you up temporarily on parole violation; if Nick thinks you're a threat to his case, he'll go after SAMCRO - and believe me, if that happens…all of you guys will be spending your golden years in Stockton or worse."

* * *

><p>Pulling into the bank parking lot, Jax cuts the Dyna's engine then reaches into his pocket. Before he left Rosen's office, the lawyer handed him a small envelope, telling him "Tara wanted you to have this." Inside, Jax'd found a safety deposit box key that he'd recognized right away. Puzzled, he'd tried to question Rosen, but the man refused to answer - telling Jax to call him after he'd retrieved all the contents in the box. Now staring at the familiar key in his hand, Jax can't help but flash back to the first time he'd seen it.<p>

_Shit it was late; the house's dark and silent when he walks inside, no doubt both Tara and the boys went to sleep a while ago. He'd wanted to come home earlier, especially since he just got back from their two-day run to Tucson, but there'd been too much shit to do - including nailing Georgie Caruso for Luanne's murder. Fuck, he'd wanted to end that piece of shit; they owed it to Otto - who'd loved Luanne more than anything - and because any sick fuck who killed a Member's Old Lady deserved to die bloody. But Clay chose to keep Caruso alive in an attempt to screw Hale's plans for the Charming Heights development. Jax didn't love the idea, but he'd gone along - somewhat pacified by the promise of offing Caruso later - but really more eager to finish this shit so he could go home to his family._

_Tara must've fallen asleep waiting for him because her bedside lamp's still on - enabling him to spot the small key lying on her night table; the sight of it triggers a wave of relief to surge through him. This morning when he'd given her two huge bricks of cash - a "souvenir" from the motorcycle show - he'd felt a tinge of unease at how she'd stared at the money in wary confusion. He knows living on the shady side of the law bothers her, that she'd sucked it up so far because she wants to be with him - the luckiest SOB on the planet. But he also knows that she has limits (which is why he won't tell her about the drugs and the cartel, she'd leave him for sure), and now he's got her involved in money-laundering…_

_A smile tugs at his lips as his gaze drifts from the key to his sleeping Old Lady. Stripping down to his boxers, he climbs into bed; a tiny voice in his head tells him he should let her sleep, but it's quickly snuffed out by the overwhelming need to spend the rest of the night fucking the love of his life. He'd been away from her for far too long._

"_Hey," she greets him sleepily, squeezing his hand as he wraps himself around her, kissing and nibbling the sensitive, baby soft skin on her neck. She shivers and moans his name as he cups a lush breast, swirling his thumb against her hardening nipple over and over. Tilting her face, she brushes her lips against his before blowing his mind with a scorching hot kiss._

_Completely engrossed in sensation - from her hot mouth, her luscious body, her soft hands stroking and squeezing him all over - he finds himself naked and flat on his back, looking up at her gorgeous face. Running her hands across his bare chest, she smiles down at him. "Did you miss me, Baby?" Before he can gather enough brain cells to answer, she beams him that saucy smile - sending excitement coursing through every inch of his body. It's an old game that they've been playing since high school; he fucking, fucking loves what's coming next…_

"_Did you miss me touching you like this?" She grips his cock, sliding her hands up and down his rock-hard dick, stroking the wet tip with her thumb while her other hand fondles his balls. He grits his teeth and responds with a series of loud moans and curses._

"_Did you miss being inside of me?" Oh fucking shit…he clenches the bed sheet while she slowly, slowly impales herself on his all-too-eager cock. He growls with pleasure when she starts to ride, her soaking hot inner-muscles squeezing him tightly._

"_Did you miss these puppies?" Watching intently through desire-glazed eyes, he inhales sharply as she cups her bare breasts - pressing them together and brushing her fingers across her stiff nipples. Her lips curve into a naughty smile right before she short-circuits his brain. Dipping her fingers between her legs, she moans softly then paints each nipple with her wetness. "Suck me," she whispers right as he loses all control, launching up so that he can suckle her hungrily - reveling in the taste of her while licking and kissing and nibbling those thick, rosy buds._

_Clasping her ass, he lifts her slightly then slams her down on his cock - again and again and again until orgasmic pleasure blasts through them both. Breathing heavily, he buries his face against her heaving breasts then smiles as he feels her lips brush against his ear. "I missed you too, Baby." _

Christ, he buries his sweaty face in his hands; all these memories of her keep flooding his mind...he's not sure whether to cling to them like a lifeline or fight them off before he goes completely insane. Swallowing hard, Jax clenches the key in his sweaty palm as he walks slowly towards the bank. He can't imagine what she'd left in the box for him; they'd stopped storing cash there after cutting ties with Galindo - hell, he didn't even know that she'd kept the account. But evidently today's the day for shit to knock him on his ass.

His cel phone rings as he's about to walk in the door. Frowning at the unknown number showing on the screen, he decides to answer anyway. Whether that's a fucking mistake remains to be seen.

"Teller, it's Nick Reese. We need to talk."


	5. Slamming Up Against What I Should Do

**Chapter 4: SLAMMING UP AGAINST WHAT I SHOULD DO**

"_That's him, the skinny Hispanic guy…." The deputy nods in the direction of their quarry, who's standing next to his Harley talking on his cel phone. "Juan Carlos Ortiz."_

_Sitting in the Sheriff's squad car parked a discreet distance from the ice cream shop - SAMCRO's de facto Clubhouse - Jarry assesses the biker called Juice. The man certainly has a history with the Sanwa Sheriff's Department (and Charming PD) - bouncing in and out of jail for years. However, the separate file on him that they'd found in Eli's office fell frustratingly short on detail - an unusual lapse by the diligent man that she'd known for years; which makes her wonder about the truth hidden between the lines and whether it'd been explosive enough to drive Juice to such violent retaliation. But even so, why kill Tara Knowles so savagely? Did Juice harbor that much hate for his MC President's wife? Or for the Biker King himself? Based on what she'd been told about Jackson Teller's long history with Tara Knowles and what she'd observed of his interview with Patterson, if anyone had wanted to destroy the man, killing his wife was the way to do it._

_However, despite her immediate interest in Juice, she could also ask those same questions about all the potential persons of interests they'd identified when going through Eli's jacket. Her old friend had a shitload of bad guys who would've loved to take him down - now she needs to find out which ones also harbored that same murderous animosity for the SAMCRO President._

_She'd relayed her findings to both Reese and Patterson; both had agreed with her strategy to find a link between the two victims. However, she didn't tell them about Juice; that link was too tenuous given the scant information in the report, also she didn't want to smear Eli by suggesting that he might've done shit off the record or sanitized a case file. _

_Nor did she tell them about her own suspicion that Eli had fallen victim to walking into the wrong place at the wrong time - that Eli's killer had shot him in the back because he'd either witnessed Dr. Knowles' murder or discovered her dead body. However, she needs the crime scene report to prove her theory - even a preliminary version would do - but for some crazy reason, the county CSU hasn't finished their analysis. It's pissing her off because she's seen them process and analyze crime scenes three times the size of the Teller's kitchen in half the time they're taking now. But then, the AG's office wasn't involved in those cases; everyone's fucking tip-toeing on egg shells because of Nick Reese._

_She's jolted out of her thoughts by the appearance of a tall woman walking up to Juice, who immediately ends his call. As the woman leans in to hug the young biker, Jarry recognizes her from the photo in Jackson Teller's thick file: Gemma Teller-Morrow. _

* * *

><p>Head and heart pounding, Jax watches the bank employee insert her key, then his to open the safe deposit slot and extract the box. He follows her to the adjoining room where she sets the box on the table then tells him to let her know when he's ready to leave. For a few seconds, his thoughts drift to the terse conversation with Nick Reese prior to walking into the bank; he wonders who and what's going to fuck with his mind more - the cagey Deputy Chief AG, who wants to meet with him later today, or the mysterious shit in the safety deposit box that Tara had wanted him to have.<p>

It'd been a shock to find out that Tara'd kept the box after Galindo cut ties with SAMCRO; after cleaning the cartel's last cash payment, they'd moved the funds into their regular bank account - with their legitimate money. But along with the key, Rosen handed over a bank document transferring ownership of the box to him. He'd been fucking confused why Rosen had delivered the news instead of Lowen, the lawyer in charge of Tara's will. But when Jax pelted him with questions, Rosen went into asshole mode and refused to answer anything until Jax retrieved the contents of the box and brought it back to the office - tomorrow because he's got court in Sacramento the rest of the day. Jax'd been tempted to slug the prick, growling that he's in no fucking mood to play a goddamn scavenger hunt game - instead, burning curiosity had him speeding towards the bank right after the meeting.

Taking a deep breath, Jax opens the box only to have his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He lifts a manila envelope and stares in shock at the stacks of hundred dollar bills lining the bottom layer of the box. Holy fuck. Where the hell did Tara get this cash? Based on the will that Lowen read him, all of Tara's savings had gone into the boys' trust accounts and the remaining proceeds she had from selling her dad's house had gone to pay her legal fees. For long moments, he stares at the cash like a dumbfuck before finally remembering the envelope in his hand; hopefully it can shed some light as to why there's seventy grand in cash in a box that should've been empty.

However the contents of the envelope deliver an even greater shock. Quickly scanning the papers - most of which look to be stock and brokerage documents (shit he's never cared to understand) - he's floored by savings account statements from a physicians' credit union. Apparently Tara had started the account right after he proposed to her and promised to take them all out of Charming; she'd been saving for their life together.

"_You talk to my mom about what to do with the cash?" He pulls her tighter against him, every inch of his body still buzzing from the insanely delicious way she'd welcomed him home. Holy fuck, no one else can rock his world with the blinding ecstasy that she does. No one._

_She nuzzles his neck then smiles up at him. "Yeah, I had lunch with her; we're going to meet with a guy Bobby knows. It's just a lot of money, Jax…" _

_Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he twines their fingers. "And I promise there's going to be a whole lot more… I remember what it was like for you growing up, Tara; your parents never gave you shit. You even left to find a better life. I'm just so damn lucky you came back to me." He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her fingers. "I want to give you a beautiful life, Babe - you and the boys and all the other kids we're going to have. I want to be able to give you everything."_

"_Oh Jax…" Green eyes misty, she kisses him softly. "I don't need you to buy me things. Once you're out of SAMCRO and we're gone from here, we could live in a tent and it'd be beautiful." Sliding on top of him, she leans down and blows him away with scorching hot kiss. "I love you, Baby." Tara strokes his face with her soft hands. "All I need is for you and the boys to be safe. That's all I'll ever want…for us to be together."_

Suddenly, the pounding in his head ratchets to another level; if he doesn't get the fuck out of here he's going puke or violently destroy shit like in the ME's lab - or both. He shoves the papers back into the envelope, which he rolls up and sticks in his sweatshirt pocket; Rosen's got a fuckload of explaining to do. Eyeing the cash, he decides to leave it all in the box for now - although he'll be back for it…soon.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Mano, thanks for calling me back." Nero sits down next to him on the park bench. Despite the tight bond that's grown between them, their last two meetings hadn't gone well. On the worst day of Jax's life, Nero had called him out for lying about his complicity in Darvany's murder. And when Nero had come to visit him at the hospital, Jax had raged at him to get out - like he did to every poor fucker who'd walked into his room; if he couldn't see Tara, he didn't want to see anyone.<p>

However, Nero continued to reach out; calling and leaving multiple voicemails on Jax's cel - which Jax had ignored, like all the other messages, until today. Since he had a few hours to kill before the meet with Reese, Jax finally returned his friend's call; he needs a favor from the one guy he can trust with his plan. "Thanks for coming," Jax tells him quietly. "Sorry I was such an asshole the other day, I…"

Nero clamps his hand on Jax's shoulder and shakes his head. "No, man, it's okay. I get it."

Jax nods then turns to stare out at the empty playground where he'd spent hundreds of hours as a kid with Opie and Tara, then as family man with Tara and his boys. He's not sure why he chose this place to meet Nero; in his agitated state, he hadn't wanted to go home where the bottles of whiskey could tempt him again and he sure as hell didn't want to go to his mom's or to the ice cream shop. Maybe subconsciously he'd picked this place because he'd known only happiness with her here.

"The coroner's releasing Tara tomorrow." It surprises him a little that he can sound so bland and matter-of-fact. "I need a favor with the…final arrangements."

His friend blinks in surprise; whatever Nero may have expected him to say, it wasn't this. No doubt he probably expected Jax to go to Gemma or one of his SAMCRO Brothers for anything to do with Tara's burial. "Anything, Jax. Just tell me what you need from me; it's as good as done."

Nero may've looked slightly surprised before, but after Jax divulges his plan, the man's jaw drops in stunned amazement. "Are you going to tell Gemma about this?"

Jax shakes his head. "No, she'll try to stop me. No one else can know until I'm ready for them to know. I have to do this, Nero. It's what Tara would've wanted; I can't let her down again…"

"Okay." Nero nods slowly, a small smile tugging his lips. "Okay." He sits with Jax in silence for a few long moments before getting up, patting Jax on the shoulder then walking away; leaving Jax to continue staring at the empty playground.

"_Jax? What are you doing here?" Tara blinks at him in surprise as he plops down on the picnic blanket where she's nursing Thomas. She darts a quick glance at Abel - who's with a couple of small kids playing some game that consists of chasing each other and squealing as loud as possible - before turning to him so he can kiss her._

"_Time off for good behavior." He moves closer, wrapping his arms around her while she snuggles against him. Actually, that's not far off from the truth. Since the Club voted to start muling drugs for the Galindo Cartel a couple of days ago, Clay's been all sorts of grateful to him for his backing on the vote. And Jax parlayed that gratitude to skip a short run this weekend; he'd wanted to escape with Tara to their special place for a couple of days of camping and marathon sex. She'd made some important promises to him during his fourteen months in Stockton - like going skinny dipping and tattooing her name on his dick with her tongue; the woman's going to be his wife, he needed to make sure she kept her promises. Which she did. A few times._

_When they got back to town this morning, he'd gone to the Clubhouse to check in while she picked up the boys from Gemma's to start Abel Day - a pancake, park and animated movie fest that Tara invented while Jax was in Stockton to make her little boy happy. But after a couple of hours, mostly spent bickering with Bobby and Piney about the cartel, Jax couldn't resist the pull of her and ditched his Brothers to spend the rest of the day with his family._

_He kisses the top of her head then gazes down at their baby boy; it never fails to amaze Jax how much Thomas' such a beautiful blend of both him and Tara. Of course, Jax loves the fact that Thomas looks exactly like him - except for those gorgeous green eyes that he'd inherited from Tara. Those big eyes twinkle up at him in greeting as Thomas continues to suckle his mother greedily._

"_Just remember, Kid - those puppies are a temporary rental; they belong to me." Jax strokes his son's soft cheek, then smiles mischievously against Tara's hair when his hand brushes against her breast once, twice…_

"_I can't believe you're feeling me up in front of your kids, not to mention a bunch of preschoolers and their moms," she scolds laughingly, but doesn't stop him - so he doesn't stop. Then sighing wistfully, she looks down at Thomas. "I have to admit I'm a little sad that the boys won't get to have as much fun at this park as we did growing up. I've always loved this park."_

"_Yeah, me too." Jax's smile widens as Abel shrieks with laughter as he eludes another little boy trying to catch him. "We'll just have to find a place with a neighborhood park nearby. Can't deprive them of cute little girls saving them from mean bullies who steal their bikes."_

_Tara giggles at the memory and kisses his stubbly cheek. "I just hope neither of them inherit their old man's bad habit of eating sand." She grins at what must be offended outrage on his face. "Don't even try and deny it, Baby. I was there, remember? You couldn't get enough. It's just a good thing you didn't know what Opie did in that sand..."_

The vibrating buzz from his cel phone snaps him out of his reverie. Skeeter. Sighing heavily as grim reality sets in again, he answers the call.

* * *

><p>"You know all this cloak and dagger shit is getting old," Jax snaps at the blond lawyer emerging from the black SUV. When the AG's chief hatchet man called earlier, he'd pretty much ordered Jax to meet him at a private location, which turned out to be the Charming cemetery.<p>

"Relax, Teller. You'll thank me later." Reese motions for Jax to follow as he walks towards the columbarium, supposedly where they could talk and not be seen - not there's a single person visible anywhere. Jax can't help but flash back to when he'd used this place to meet with another overly-ambitious government asshole; ATF Agent Stahl had been a back-stabbing, murderous bitch who'd killed her own partner to cover her own lying ass. He'll find out soon enough if he's got another one of her on his hands in the form of a cryptic state's attorney.

Reese reaches into his suit pocket, causing Jax to tense and reach for his gun. Shaking his head, the other man eyes him reprovingly, pulling out a bundle of folded papers that he hands to Jax. "Seriously, Teller, you really need to work on your trust issues. Why would I lure you out to the Charming cemetery in broad daylight to kill you?"

Grabbing the papers, Jax returns the man's glare. "I've got no fucking idea why you're doing any of this." As he glances at the document, his eyes widen in disbelief. "Jesus Christ…what the hell?"

"Call it a show of faith," Reese replies. "You get to see the final crime scene report before the Sheriff and the DA. You see? I wouldn't be giving this to you if I didn't think we could work together. Hell, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't know shit since Patterson's adamant about keeping you in the dark. For some reason, she thinks you might be prone to violence if you knew how…Dr. Knowles died."

There it is again – something's off in the man's tone; before Jax can probe further, his eyes latch on to the grisly photo of his kitchen - markers placed on the bloody floor where Tara and Roosevelt's bodies had been found. He'll never forget all the blood spattered everywhere, but for the first time he sees how much had spilled from Tara into the sink - turning the dishwater a deep, dark red.

"_Dr. Knowles' killer had tried to drown her in the sink, and when she tried to fight it…the killer stabbed her in the back of the head - six times. And with enough force to crack her skull." _ A red mist coats Jax's vision as his legs buckle; he's forced to brace himself against the stone wall to keep from sliding to his knees. When he finally collects his shit, the volcanic rage - which he'd managed to bury for a while - shoots to the surface with a vengeance.

"Why…" He grits out, eyes never leaving the bloody photo. "Why the hell are you telling me all of this? What the fuck's your game, man?" Jax looks up and meets ice cold blue eyes, not unlike his own.

Reese stares at him for a long moment, his jaw hardening as if trying to decide whether to renege on his earlier claim that he's not here to kill. Jax can sense that, for some unknown reason, the other man hates him - a realization that doesn't bother him in the slightest since his own feelings toward the state's golden boy have rapidly degraded from initial distrust to intense dislike.

Pulling the crime scene report from Jax's grip, Reese glares down at the bloody photo. "Before I joined the AG's office, I was a prosecutor in the San Francisco DA's office for years. And for years, I was forced to make deals with murderers and rapists and drug dealers - all kinds of human slime. It was always the worst sort of criminals that had some kind of leverage they could trade to save them from getting the punishment they deserved."

Handing the report back to Jax, Reese reaches into the front pocket of his impeccably tailored black suit and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. "That's what might happen here, Teller. Jarry and her deputies might be able to find the murderer, but then what? The lowlife scumbag agrees to rat out another lowlife scumbag, who's higher on the criminal food chain, in exchange for a couple of years in Stockton and a decade on parole? Does that sound like justice to you?"

Where the fuck was this crazy asshole going with this? "You're the fucking lawyer," Jax grits out through clenched teeth. "You don't have to make any goddamn deals." What he doesn't say is that there's no fucking way that the animal who killed Tara will ever live long enough to get to trial.

Shaking his head, Reese scowls at him. "You know better than that, Teller. How much time did you and your 'Brothers' do on that federal gun charge? Fourteen months? That's bullshit time and you know it; yet the feds agreed because you served up a bigger fish - a bigger IRA fish…" A slow, grim smile tugs at his lips. "But then not long after your arrest - Jimmy O'Phelan was found murdered, along with the ATF agent who'd taken custody of him. What a strange series of events…"

The fragile thread holding on to Jax's patience snaps. "If you've got something to say, just fucking say it. I don't have the time or interest in your political career shit."

Once again Reese shoots him a long, measuring stare - as if assessing his suitability for some goddamn thing. Whatever it is, Jax's ready to tell the asshole to go fuck himself. He's had enough of the man's bullshit.

But before he can open his mouth, Reese thrusts the folded piece of paper at him. "This is a list of recently released criminals with homicide or assault records who could've had a grudge against Sheriff Roosevelt. I would appreciate if you could look at the names and see if any of these men might've had a problem with you or…Dr. Knowles."

Stunned, Jax accepts the paper and tries not to gape at the lifelong public servant. "And if I see a name or two that might look familiar? Is this some kind of fucked-up trap to get me back inside?"

"Like it or not, you're going to have to trust me on this, Teller. But I can assure you that we want the same thing - justice for an innocent woman." Reese shoves his hands in his pockets, grim rage spreading across his face. "She didn't die easily, you know. Or quickly. She fought hard to stay alive…I hate thinking of what she must've suffered those last few minutes of her life - so much fear, so much pain…"

Jax slams his eyes shut as he presses his forehead against the stone wall, fighting desperately for control; he can't let his grief consume him. He clutches the papers Reese gave him tightly; no, he's fucking done walking around like an open sore. It's fucking time to set the goddamn world on fire.

"Whatever you decide to do…" Jax hears Reese whisper in his ear. "Just make sure it's excruciating."

* * *

><p>"Can we talk for a second?" Margaret Murphy blocks his entrance to the daycare.<p>

He does need to talk to her about the boys, but he's in no fucking mood for that now. Not when his blood's still boiling, his mind still ravaged with brutal images of Tara dying painfully. "I'm kind of in a hurry, can it wait until tomorrow?"

She hesitates for a second before plowing forward. "It's about Abel. Jax, it's getting worse. He still won't talk - just withdrawing more and more every day. And he won't leave Thomas, not even for a second - it's like he's afraid of losing his little brother like he lost his mother."

Jax drags his hand through his hair. What the fuck does she expect him to do? Abel won't talk to him either. This morning, he'd dragged his hung-over ass out of bed to make breakfast for the boys - only to find Abel in Thomas' room, feeding his little brother goldfish crackers between the crib bars. "What should I do, Margaret? He won't open up to me either. Every time I try to talk to him, he ignores me or runs off. Maybe he blames me for what happened to Tara…" And he wouldn't be wrong, Jax tells himself bitterly.

"My husband, Dave, is a retired children's guidance counselor. It's not the same as a child psychologist by any means. But it's the closest thing we have right now with Dr. Wong, our resident expert, on vacation out of the country for the next couple of weeks. If you're okay with it, I can bring him here to meet with Abel."

"That would be great." He tries to smile, but fails miserably. "Just let me know how much…"

Shaking her head vigorously, Margaret frowns. "Oh no, we couldn't take your money. Dave adored Tara, we both did…" She pulls off her glasses to swipe the tears from her eyes. "Thank you for agreeing to this. I hope Dave can help him, even a little bit." Then before Jax can say anything, she mutters something about a meeting and walks away.

Entering the daycare, he braces himself from another round of silence from Abel and screaming fit from Thomas. The daycare manager - who's name he can never remember - smiles politely at him as she opens the door to the playroom. "Mr. Teller, you should know that some books that Dr. Knowles had ordered for the boys finally arrived; I put them in Abel's backpack." She says it hesitantly, as if she's not sure of his reaction. He nods distractedly as he's hit with the sound of the daycare aide reading an all-to-familiar story.

"'_Once upon a time in Spain, there was a little bull and his name was Ferdinand. All the other little bulls he lived with would run and jump and butt their heads together, but not Ferdinand. He like to sit quietly and smell the flowers'..."_

_Abel giggles loudly. "That's so silly. Bulls don't smell flowers, Mommy."_

_Standing in the playroom doorway, he can't help but grin. Abel always says that when she reads this book to him - and as a skeptical nine-year-old, Jax'd said nearly the same thing when he'd listened to Tara read the same story to his little brother, Tommy._

"_Well Ferdinand's a special bull, sweetie." Tara tells him, finger-combing his hair as he rocks back and forth on her lap. She tickles a gurgling Thomas, lying contently on the blank next to them, before continuing with the story - to the delight of the handful of enthralled kids sitting around her. "...'All the other bulls who had grown up with him in the same pasture would fight each other all day. They would butt each other and stick each with their horns. What they wanted most of all was to be picked to fight at the bull fights in Madrid. But not Ferdinand…'"_

"_But why wouldn't Ferdinand want to be in bull fights?" A small curly-haired boy asks. "He's a bull. Isn't that what bulls do?"_

"_Well some do, Carlos, but not all of them. Ferdinand doesn't want to fight, he likes smelling flowers. He's a very smart bull because that's what I would rather do than fight." She giggles as a chorus of excited "Me, too!" shouts fill the air._

_The story's almost finished by the time she finally notices him leaning against the door gazing at her - like the big Spanish bull mooning over his favorite flower. In the corner of his eye, he can see the daycare manager and her aide smirking at him; they must think it's hilarious to see the bad-ass SAMCRO President getting all googly-eyed at the sight of his wife reading a kid's book to half-a-dozen toddlers and preschoolers._

_She flashes him a blinding smile that curls his toes. "'So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy.'"*_

"Mr. Teller?" The daycare manager looks at him worriedly, as if afraid he's going to relapse right there in front of her.

Forcing a smile, he takes Thomas' carrier and Abel's hand and leads his boys out of there. As they walk to the car, he can't help but think about that simple story he's heard her read probably a hundred times. He'd chosen the bull fights instead of a peaceful life with the beautiful flowers. And unlike that fucking lucky bull, he'll probably never be happy again.

* * *

><p>In the car, he tells the boys of the change of plans; they'll be staying with Grandma for a couple of days because Daddy has some work to do. Once again, he may as well have saved his goddamn breath as Abel stares sullenly out the window while Thomas plays with his toes.<p>

Gemma frowns as Abel stiffens when she tries to hug him then refuses to take off his ever-present backpack. "Jesus, how long is he going to be like this?" Her worried eyes follow her oldest grandson as he switches on the TV then climbs onto the couch next to Thomas, who's still in his carrier playing with his toes.

"I don't know, Mom. His mother just died, I don't think there's a fucking timetable for getting over something like that." At her stricken look, he sighs heavily and squeezes her arm. "I'm sorry….I did talk to Margaret Murphy today, and she's going to have her husband - who used to be some kind of kid counselor - start working with him. Who knows, maybe it'll help Abel to talk to someone else. He sure as hell isn't talking to me."

His mother wrinkles her nose in distaste; obviously there's no love lost between the two women. Jax wonders if Gemma blames Margaret for encouraging Tara to pursue a job in Oregon. But then it doesn't fucking matter how his mother feels about it; this is about getting help for Abel. If she doesn't like it, tough shit. His thoughts must've been reflected on his face because she'd opened her mouth to protest, only to deflate with a scowl.

Jax doesn't want to get into a fight with her; he's too fucking amped-up inside, and his kids are sitting a few feet away. So he changes the subject to something he needed to talk to her about anyway. "Mom, do you remember who Tara used to clean the Galindo cash? I think he's a friend of Bobby's?"

She blinks in surprise, no doubt by the seeming randomness of his question. "Yeah, his name's Marco DeNotti - one of those Italians who knew Bobby's dad. You don't think he had anything to do with what happened to Tara…? Jackson, the man's almost seventy."

"No, 'course not. I was just trying to remember his name," he lies.

But his mom's nobody's fool; she looks at him probingly. "Something happen today?" He hasn't not told her about meeting with Lowen about Tara's will, not sure if he ever will.

Shaking his head, Jax walks towards his boys to kiss them goodnight. "No, just met with Rosen about a few things."

He tries not to flinch when Abel doesn't respond to the kiss Jax drops on his forehead; turning to Thomas, it feels like a major victory that his baby boy's not crying as Jax strokes his chubby cheek.

He turns to leave. "Thanks, Mom. Just promise me that you'll them to daycare. It's important that Abel meets with Margaret's husband." He pulls her into a hug as she nods reluctantly. "Oh, and thanks again for getting Rosen back on board. The guy's still a complete asshole, but he's good. Just let me know how much I owe you; I can take over his retainer from now on."

Gemma shoots him a puzzled look. "I didn't hire him, Jax. Bobby and the guys did. Until he just showed up at the hospital, I hadn't seen him in a couple of years."

* * *

><p>Jax stalks through his house, his brain churning in overdrive. The day's been a series of total mindfucks: Tara's will, the mystery cash in her safety deposit box, another soul-crushing encounter with Reese and now…who the fuck hired his lawyer? His skin prickles with unease as he cycles through all of his conversations with Rosen, but nothing triggers any suspicion that the former long-time SAMCRO lawyer might be trying to screw him.<p>

He'd pulled out his phone to call Rosen and demand answers, but then his fingers touched the papers that Reese had given him earlier. No time to confront the lawyer now, he can do that in the morning. There's more important things to do now. Jax hits the all-too familiar speed-dial button, gratified when Bobby answers right away.

Inhaling sharply as his whole body shakes with rage, he fixates once again on the x-ray image of Tara's cracked skull - courtesy of the crime scene report. "Get the guys together," he barks into the phone. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Hanging up the phone, he glances down at the leather cut that he's not worn since that fateful day. He'd thought that maybe he could walk away from everything that Tara hated; that he could quickly find and execute her killer then take the boys and escape this fucking town. He can still do that; his sons will not grow up here - he can keep that promise. But in order to find the monster who did this to her, he realized from reading the list Reese gave him, he can't do it alone.

He glances at the framed photo of him and Tara taken on their wedding day, he kisses one of his fingers then brushes it across her gorgeous, smiling face. "I'm so sorry, Babe. But it'll work out, I promise."

Shrugging on the leather cut, he glances down at the President's patch then walks out the front door.

* * *

><p>*<em>The Story of Ferdinand<em> by Munro Leaf


	6. Distraction and Remorse

AN: SOOO sorry for the long delay. It's been a long, busy month at work - but I'm finally on vacation so now have time to write. It drives me a little crazy that I've had this whole story mapped out for months but have had such little time to write (although I do admit to being a slow writer as I'm somewhat OCD with word selection). Thanks for being patient with me!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: DISTRACTION AND REMORSE<strong>

"_Has CSU sent over the crime scene report for the Roosevelt-Knowles murders?" Jarry asks the deputy sitting at the desk by her office. It's been days since they've processed all the evidence from the Teller's kitchen and the crime scene cleared, yet so far she hasn't seen or heard shit about the results - despite her repeated inquiries. If she doesn't get that final report soon, she's mounting the CSU Chief's fucking head on a stick._

"_Not that I know of, ma'am." The deputy shakes his head. "But you'll want to see this…" He plucks a file folder from one of his stacks and hands it to her. "It's a preliminary report of all the follow-ups done today on the persons of interests. We haven't had a chance to talk to everyone on the list, but most are there. Plus a couple of leads we got in the process."_

"_Thanks," Jarry smiles appreciatively and takes the file. "When you get a minute, can you text Cane and let him know that I want to talk to him first thing tomorrow morning?"_

_The deputy nods, and Jarry heads into her office. She really should get home and get some sleep but can't resist the lure of what might be in that file folder. Most of the time these things wind up being a fucking waste of time as the lowlifes they talk to often belong to the "know nothing-see nothing-hear nothing" tribe, assholes who'd rather shoot cops instead of help them. Fucking ironic in this case._

_Sitting at her desk, she flips open the file and starts to read…_

* * *

><p>"Good to see you sitting there where you belong, Pres." Bobby grins at him from across the table while the others nod enthusiastically in accord. Jax tries to smile back, but fails miserably - nodding grimly at all of them instead; although he's grateful for his Brothers' unconditional love and support, he can't get past knowing that Club business somehow led to Tara's murder. Had he just fucking walked away like he promised her...<p>

His hand tightens on the gavel as he forces those thoughts away; nothing's more crippling than guilt, and he can no longer afford to let it shroud and distract him. Reese's right, it's time to use his rage and his resources to hunt down Tara's killer. Even if it means returning to the head of the table she'd come to hate.

He looks pointedly at Juice, sitting quietly in his regular seat, looking sick to his stomach (no doubt still worrying about what Jax's going to do to him for squealing about Darvany's murder). "Juice, I want you to get online and put together some quick intel on Nick Reese, former San Francisco prosecutor now Chief Deputy Attorney General. Especially anything that might link him to Tara. Now."

After Juice scurries off to do his President's bidding, Jax tells the remaining men about his two enlightening - albeit disturbing - encounters with the Chief Deputy AG; how the man seems to be working both with and against Patterson and the new Sheriff - calling the shots in the investigation then revealing the confidential autopsy and crime scene evidence to Jax. He's surprised at how calm and emotionless his voice sounds as he recounts the grisly details of Tara's brutally protracted and agonizing death; he's also surprised that the gavel hasn't splintered in half from his choking, white-knuckled grip.

"Jesus…" Chibs hisses under his breath, wiping his wet eyes with his palms - as if trying to erase the horrifying images invading his brain. Looking around the table, Jax realizes that his VP's not the only one visibly shaken by his painful revelation; every one of his Brothers - hardened career criminals who'd each seen more than a dozen men's fair share of violent death - seems to be struggling with his composure. Even Happy had cringed and closed his eyes.

"So why the hell did this guy tell you all this shit?" Bobby lifts his head from his hands to growl at Jax. "How do you know he's not trying to manipulate you into retaliating and then take you down for all of it?"

"I don't know," Jax admits; despite the fact Reese handed over all the intel that Patterson had denied him, he didn't trust the over-polished prick. "Nothing the guy's done has made any fucking sense to me. That's why I want Juice to check him out. Rosen's told me some shit about him, but nothing that tells me why he'd be so interested in Tara's murder that he'd break protocol. I can't imagine this is how the AG works cases or that Patterson would be too happy if she knew."

Reaching into his sweatshirt pocket, he pulls out the list of names that Reese gave him just a few hours ago. "Apparently Reese's got the Sheriff going through Roosevelt's jacket to see if anyone might've had a serious beef with him. He gave me this list of the bad guys they've flagged; I'm supposed to check if any of these guys had issues with SAMCRO or me personally...Only one name stands out." He hands the paper to Chibs, whose eyes widen – no doubt because of the name at the top of the page.

"Oh shit…" Chibs passes the list to Tig, who quickly scans the names.

"Fucking shit…" Tig echoes. "Alvarez."

"You really think Alvarez would kill Tara?" Bobby asks incredulously. "Deliberately start a street war? Because he knows that's exactly what he'll get; that we'd retaliate hard and butcher them all for doing that to her." Once again his face twists with grief. "Alvarez was pissed about us giving the guns to Marks, but this…" He shakes his head. "I don't know, Jax...We've had bad blood with the Mayans before, but he's never gone after women or innocents."

When Jax first saw Alvarez's name on the list, he'd nearly taken off for Oakland to confront the Mayan President, violently if necessary. But then, a rare visit from his voice of reason penetrated his rage-filled brain and reminded him of his boys waiting to be picked up from daycare. Fucking good thing - maybe Bobby's right and Alvarez wouldn't attack Jax's family; in any event, going up against Brown alone would've been goddamn stupid - and an easy trip back to the hospital or the morgue.

Chibs and Tig exchange meaningful looks before Tig drops the bomb. "But Alvarez's already started a street war with the Niners. At least that's what's going to happen once Marks and Tyler find out that it was the Mayans who took out a bunch of their guys at the meet last week. Hell, they probably already know and are just planning their next move. Marks is a Pope clone; he plans this shit out."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jax snaps at him; rubbing his forehead, which is starting to pound again. "The Mayans gunned down Tyler's guys at the meet we called?"

"That would be correct." Chibs confirms, nodding. "Barosky heard from his cop friends that four bodies with Niners ink were found at that junkyard outside Oakland - with a bunch of motorcycle tracks all around them. So that's either the Mayans or us."

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking?" An ugly realization along with ice cold fury blasts through Jax, curling his hands into tight fists. "Maybe a war is what he wants," he snarls. "If the Mayans take down Marks and SAMCRO, then the Irish will have no choice but to distribute through Alvarez and Lin…That son-of-a-bitch…that goddamn greedy son-of-a-bitch…If he killed Tara, I fucking swear…"

"Jax, we don't know that Alvarez is involved in any of this yet," Bobby interrupts, trying to infuse some sanity to diffuse Jax's escalating fury-fueled insanity. "We can't just declare war on the Mayans with just Barosky's cop gossip. Even if it is true and they killed those Niners, we've got nothing to prove Alvarez had anything to do with what happened to Tara. I'm with you all the way, Brother." Bobby glances around the table. "And so is everyone at this table…But if you want to take on Brown, then we'll need all the other charters to back our play. But as much as they all love you, Brother, those votes won't go our way unless we have proof the Mayans killed Tara."

Jax buries his face in his shaking hands, both to calm his explosive temper and the spearing pain that's now spread to his whole fucking skull. He instinctively knows that his Brothers believe that Bobby's right and, despite his inner demons demanding instant action to avenge Tara, he also knows that Bobby's right. "Okay," Jax sighs resignedly, dropping his hands to look up and face his Brothers. "Chibs, set a meet with Alvarez tomorrow; tell him I just want to talk to him."

Chibs nods, looking somewhat relieved, then reaches out to grip Jax's shoulder. "Bobby's right; we're with you all the way, Jackie. All the way."

* * *

><p>"So this is all the info on Nick Reese that I could find for now." Before Jax dismissed Church, he wanted to hear whatever intel Juice could dig up on Reese. He needs to know who the fuck this guy is besides some legal hotshot who Rosen thinks will be Governor someday. Christ, he's definitely moving his boys out of California. Juice flips open his laptop, typing furiously on the keyboard until he gets the website he wants. "This guy is California political royalty. If there is such a thing."<p>

"What the hell does that mean?" Tig scowls. "This is America. We don't do that king/queen shit here. Well except for motorcycle clubs." He shoots Jax a snarky grin.

"It means that he comes from a long line of fucking politicians." Juice clarifies, not looking up from the computer screen. "His father used to be the California then US Attorney General, his mother used to be a federal judge - she's now the Dean of Stanford Law School, his older brother's a state senator and to top it all off, his maternal grandfather used to be Governor. Talk about getting raised with high expectations."

"Oh shit, I remember his old man…" Bobby peers at Juice's laptop screen.

"You knew his old man?" Rat barks out in laughter. "You must've traveled in some fancy circles back then."

"I didn't know the guy personally, smart ass." Bobby cuffs him lightly across the head. "I heard about him. But only because he got murdered or assassinated or whatever they call gunning down a guy running for office. He'd just ended his term as the US AG and was running for Governor of California when some nut-job pulls out a piece at a charity dinner and blows him away. Never found out why though...The guy's lawyer convinced the judge that the guy was crazy - no shit - so instead of death row, the he got life in prison. Vaguely recall that he didn't last too long inside, though."

Jax frowns as unease prickles his neck. He's got no fucking clue what that might have to do with him, given he's never heard about Reese's old man until now, but somehow he can't shake the feeling that something about Reese Sr.'s murder has to be motivating Reese Jr. in some way. "When was this?" Jax asks, searching his memory; he's never given two shits about politics or politicians but even he would remember an assassination of such a public figure.

"A long time ago," Bobby tells him. "When you were in Stockton, the first time. That's probably why you don't remember; current events aren't exactly popular topics among gen pop." Yeah that would explain it; during his first stint in Stockton, he spent the time learning to broker alliances and trying not to think about Tara non-stop. He nods at Juice to continue.

"The guy's been with the California AG's office for four years so it's been a quick rise to the top Deputy's job. I'm sure having his family connections help, but his track record's unreal - both with the AG and in the San Francisco DA's office; he's put a lot of people away for a lot of years. Although, according to some of the interviews he's given, he would've preferred lethal injection."

"Rosen told me that he and his boss are on a mission about that. The AG's got a thing for frying cop killers - which is why Rosie thinks she might be hot for this case. But Reese wants _me_ to execute Tara's killer; I heard that loud and clear. I just don't know why."

Juice shakes his head. "I couldn't find any connection with this guy and Tara, Jax. He's from Marin County in San Francisco - not exactly our circles, graduated from Stanford Law School and - up until a year ago - he was married to the girl he dated in law school; she's a partner at some big law firm in San Francisco. That's all I got for from his state bio and some quick Google searching. I can dig around some more tomorrow, look into old cases and shit." Juice looks at him hopefully, as if he can work himself off of Jax's shit list with a few internet searches. Not fucking likely.

But Jax's too tired to deal with the fucking rat right now, and he does need him to dig up what he can on Reese. "Sounds good, thanks."

Once again he looks around the table, and this time, he manages a faint smile. "Thanks to all of you; frankly I don't know what I'd fucking do without you guys right now. I'm sorry I've been so distant, I've got a lot going on and…" The understanding look on his Brothers' faces tell him he doesn't need to explain shit to them; they're supporting him no matter what. His smile broadens as he bangs the gavel ending Church. Despite everything, he loves his Club, deeply loves the men he calls his Brothers. And he'll miss them like hell when leaves Charming with his sons and has to say goodbye to them forever.

* * *

><p>"Hey Jax…Jax…" Chucky chases after him as he exits the Chapel. "Gemma called for you while you were in there. The boys are fine," he adds quickly as Jax's alarm must've spread all over his face. "She wants you to call her back when you're done here."<p>

"Thanks, Chucky." Jax nods at him appreciatively then pulls out his phone to dial Gemma.

"What do you need Mom?" If it's not about Abel or Thomas, he's got no fucking clue what she could possibly be calling him about now.

"I forgot to tell you while you were here that I ran into Dr. Namid at the grocery store today, and he asked when we're having Tara's funeral. Apparently all the doctors want to be there to pay their respects. I know you've been too distracted to deal with the arrangements so I can handle this for you, Jax. The coroner's going to have to release her body soon so we should have a plan ready…"

Jax closes his eyes as he musters as much patience as he can, which isn't fucking much. What he does with Tara is nobody's goddamn business but his; she belongs to him - she always has and always will. "There isn't going to be a funeral, Mom," he answers loud enough for all his Brothers to hear. Two birds, one stone. "Lowen said that Tara wanted her body donated to her medical school."

"What?" Gemma shrieks, loud enough for Jax to pull the phone away from his ear. "And you agreed to that? That's insane, Jackson. What the hell are you going to tell your sons?"

"Mom, believe me, missing Tara hurts worse than anything in this goddamn world; there's no way a fucking piece of rock with her name on it will ease any of that pain - not for them or for me. So I'm not going to tell them shit right now; they're too young to understand anyway."

"So what should I tell the doctors at St. Thomas? Shouldn't we at least have a memorial? I…"

"St. Thomas can do whatever the fuck they want. Look, I can't deal with this right now; I got to go. Bye, mom." He hangs up before she can sputter any more outrage at him. It doesn't surprise him that Gemma would want to plan a proper service for Tara: obviously for Club reasons - the wife of the SAMCRO President merits a full funeral procession with all charters attending (not that Tara would've wanted that) - and also, despite their crazy-volatile relationship, he does believe that his mother loved Tara, even through the bad shit. But it doesn't fucking matter what his mom wants; the coroner's releasing Tara tomorrow and he's already got his plan in place.

* * *

><p>Jax opens his bedroom closet and stares at the suitcases lining the floor - the suitcases that Tara had packed the night she'd taken the boys and left him. On his first night back from the hospital, Chucky had told him that - after the sheriffs cleared the crime scene - he'd taken the bags from Tara's SUV and put them in the house. Jax'd unpacked the boys' clothes, but he hasn't been able to bring himself to open Tara's bags - until now; now he needs to find something specific for tomorrow.<p>

Sighing heavily, Jax scrubs his hands across his face. Tomorrow's going to be a hard fucking day; not that there's been an easy one yet. But he's got a potentially dangerous confrontation with Alvarez to gauge his involvement in Tara's murder, a potentially contentious meet with Rosen to find out who the hell hired the lawyer to represent him and …the coroner's releasing Tara's body tomorrow. His hand tighten around the now half-empty bottle of whiskey; he'd told himself that he'd stop drinking for his boys' sake, but Abel and Thomas aren't here tonight, and he sorely needs the hundred proof bourbon's numbing effects.

Jax sifts through the bags quickly, as if afraid the lingering touch of her clothes could burn him. He finds what he's looking for in the second bag: a silky dark green dress with spaghetti straps and a flowing skirt. Tara's never been one to wear dresses, mostly just on special occasions - and this dress, he'd wanted her to have for a really special occasion. He'd been lucky as hell to be there when she bought it.

"_Hi Baby, fancy running into you here." Stepping out of her car, Tara smiles in surprise before pressing a soft kiss to his lips in greeting. Then noticing that he's not alone, she flips a small wave at Bobby and Chibs. "Hi guys."_

_It'd been pure coincidence that he and his Brothers had been finishing up some business when he caught sight of Tara's SUV angling into a parking spot across the street. "Yeah, my lucky day…" Flashing a grin, he lifts her hand to drop a kiss on her wedding ring. "Where you headed?"_

_She nods in the direction of Sally Brennan's dress shop, the only place he's known her to buy dresses ever since high school. "'Our' dress is ready." She grins at him, green eyes twinkling impishly at the other men's raised eyebrows. "I still need to try it on and would love to get your opinion. Come over if you can…" His blood surges with excitement at her saucy smile; it's all he can do to keep from scampering after her like an eager puppy when she heads into the shop._

_Turning to his Brothers, Jax tries to mask what must be a goofy fucking grin on his face while ignoring his Brothers' amused smirks. However, all levity vanishes as they finish discussing their plans for the impending meet with the Irish and Galindo next week. After Jax's third glance towards the dress shop, Bobby and Chibs tell him they've got the next steps covered and to go help his wife with "their" dress._

_The shop's empty except for a skinny teen-age girl reading a romance novel who tells him that Tara's in the dressing room. Thanking the girl with a wink and a smile, he practically sprints to the back of the store and knocks on the door._

_They're finally planning the wedding party that Jax had promised her the day they got married in that rushed ceremony at Diosa. When he asked her if she could find a dress similar to the pale green one she'd worn to Gemma and Clay's wedding, she'd been surprised that he even remembered. Then he'd stunned her into open-mouthed shock by opening his wallet and pulling out the photo of them from the wedding that he's been carrying around since they were sixteen._

"_What do you think?" Tara twirls around as Jax's jaw drops to the floor. The dress isn't an exact match, but it's perfect - fucking perfect. Held up by thin spaghetti straps, it clings to her lush breast before flowing to the tops of her knees in silky pleats. The dark green color sets off the sparkle in her eyes and the porcelain perfection of her smooth skin. He's thinking it's even better than the pale green dress because he can see those perfect long legs. _

"_It's beautiful, Babe. Perfect." He pulls her into his arms and pecks at her lips. "But that's because of you."_

"_You bikers are such smooth talkers." She tweaks his goatee. "I can't wait to dance with you in this dress. You're sure you like it?"_

"_Fucking love it," he rasps then devours her mouth as he pushes her back into the dressing room then kicks the door shut. Holy shit, he couldn't stop touching her if he tried; his hand running up and down her bare arms before sliding down to cup and knead that perfect silk-covered ass, pressing her tight against his stiff dick._

_So engrossed by the intoxicating taste and feel of her, he doesn't realize she'd completely unbuttoned his shirt until it falls to the ground along with his cut. "Let's play a game," she whispers hotly in his ear before pulling his t-shirt over his head and starts plucking open his jeans, sliding them and his boxers down his legs until he's bare-assed naked. Wrapping her arms around him, she pecks at his lips. "Whoever comes first has to make dinner tonight."_

_His last ounce of sanity has him darting a glance at the dressing room door - as if waiting for the teenage shop girl or some other customer to come banging on the door (it wouldn't be the first time). Even so, his hands continue to search franticly for the zipper at the back of her dress._

_Tara strokes his goatee with one hand, her green eyes dancing with amusement. "Jenny's already locked up for the night. I'm her last customer." Her other hand reaches down to squeeze his cock. "So you want to play my game, Baby? Or do you want to go home and watch Disney movies with the boys and Elyda."_

"_Where the fuck is the goddamn zipper," he growls trying not to rip the perfect dress to shreds._

_Laughing, Tara pushes him to sit down on the bench while she stands in front of him. "It's on the side." She lifts her arm to show him; then slowly, slowly tugs the zipper down, obviously enjoying the sight of his eyes glazing over and his dick twitching and hardening with each glimpse of exposed skin. Once the zipper hits the end, a sultry smile curves her lips as she slides the spaghetti straps down her arms until the dress falls to the floor - revealing that she remembers exactly what she wore under that pale green dress. Absolutely nothing._

_He fills his hands with those perfect breasts as she straddles him. "First one to come makes dinner," he confirms before rolling a thick pink nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, loving how she moans his name and tunnels her fingers through his hair. Somehow his brain's still operational as an idea pops into his head when he catches a glimpse of them in the full-length mirror on the wall; he runs a hand down the creamy skin of her back to stroke her tattoo. "Turn around, Babe."_

_Those green eyes gleam with interest as she cups his face then melts his brain with a long, slow kiss before flipping around so that her back's pressed against his chest. Lifting her slightly, he positions his cock at her soaking wet entrance then hisses with pleasure as she slides on to him, impaling herself to the hilt._

_Gripping her hips, he sets a slow, deep, rocking rhythm as he drags his tongue across the sensitive skin on her neck. Meeting her desire-darkened gaze in the mirror, he reaches up to cup her breasts, stroking her swollen nipples with his thumbs. "I want to watch you come, Babe," he whispers in her ear, sliding one hand between her legs to rub her clit with his fingers. With his dick pulsing deep inside her, his mouth nibbling her neck and his fingers stimulating her nipples and clit - she doesn't stand a fucking chance against him._

"_Oh god, Jax...Oh, Baby, yesss…" She's close; he can tell from her choppy breathing, sexy moans and tightening grip on his thighs as she rides him faster, harder, deeper. Fucking good thing as his own control's dissolving by the second with every scorching wet pussy clench that squeezes his cock, not to mention the mind-blowing image in the mirror of a gloriously naked Tara Knowles-Teller getting fondled and fucked senseless by her husband._

_But there's reasons why Tara owns him so thoroughly, why no other woman in the history of time could ever remotely compare. Her luscious pink mouth curves into that saucy smile, sending excited prickles racing up and down his spine. Lifting her hand from his thigh, she sucks a finger into her mouth as her green eyes dance with his in the mirror. Before his lust-impaired brain can react, she slides that wet finger between his legs and presses hard against that ultra-ultra-sensitive spot right below his balls._

"_Oh shit, Tara…Holy fucking shit, Tara!" He doesn't know how long or loud he screams her name (and a shitload of profanity) as his dick, his balls and every cell in his fucking body explode in blazing, brain-melting ecstasy. Clutching her against him, he flattens his palm against her drenched mound to press her closer against him as his cock continues to spasm and holds her there until she's milked him dry._

_Leaning against the wall for support, he's still fucking destroyed when she extracts herself from him and starts picking up clothes. Watching her from behind half-closed eyes, he wonders how the fuck she's got enough energy to get dressed when it's taking all of his strength just to remain upright._

"_I'm going to tell Jenny that you like the dress." Fully clothed, she kneels before him and drops a soft kiss on his lips. "And I'm going to want a steak for dinner, Baby." Her green eyes twinkle at him as an impish smile tugs at her lips. "Make it a Porterhouse."_

Jax's eyes sting at the sight of the tags still attached to the dress with a tiny safety pin. They'd had to reschedule the party date a couple of times because of emergencies that'd come up with Galindo and with Pope. Then Otto killed the nurse in front of Tara, and nothing was ever right after that.

After the first cancelation, she'd told him that she didn't need a party to celebrate being married to him. _"I've wanted to be married to you my whole life, Jax." She wraps her arms around his neck and strokes his beard. "I love being you wife, Baby. When you're with me…well that's a celebration every day."_

Yeah, there's more than a few reasons why Tara owns him so thoroughly - mainly because he loves her more than anything and everything is the whole fucking world. Then, now and always.


	7. Some Kind of Sign to Me

**Chapter 6: SOME KIND OF SIGN TO ME**

"_You wanted to see me?" Cane stands in front of her open door; Jarry motions for him to enter and have a seat while she finishes reading her texts._

"_Yeah, thanks for coming…You worked pretty closely with Sheriff Roosevelt, right?" Sliding into the seat, Cane nods uncertainly, not sure where she's going with the question. "Did he ever talk to you about any cases involving Juan Carlos Ortiz?"_

_Cane's eyes grow cold with anger. "Juice? You looking at him for killing Eli and Dr. Knowles?"_

_Shaking her head, Jarry realizes she's got a potential hothead on her hands; although all the deputies seen to be chomping at the bit to find Eli's killer and mount his head on their wall. Although she can whole-heartedly agree with that sentiment, running around half-cocked won't help shit. "I'm looking at no one and everyone, Cane. Reese wants us to follow-up on all the bad guys listed on Eli's jacket, and yesterday we found a file on Juice that was pretty much empty. I'm just wondering if it's worth a follow-up."_

_The deputy's brows wrinkle as he searches his memory for anything significant. "Nothing recent; I mean there might've been some shit between the two of them right after Juice and a bunch of Sons got paroled from Stockton. Hell, Roosevelt had me and Martinez arrest the guy for owning part of a weed shop - parole violation."_

"_Seriously? No offense, but that sounds more like harassment than law enforcement. Did you submit an arrest report? I didn't see anything like that in the file."_

_Cane shakes his head. "No, Roosevelt decided to let him go; didn't want to send him back to Stockton for a non-violent offense. Which I thought was kind of weird at the time since it was his idea to arrest Juice in the first place." He leans forward in his chair, his gaze intent. "If you ask me, I think he was shaking Juice down for something about SAMCRO. It was about the same time that the US Attorney was here conducting some investigation that they kept all hushed up. But then nothing happened and the feds left so I forgot about it."_

_There's something there; Jarry can definitely feel it. She's worked with cops who've gotten their jollies by dogging new parolees, trying to trip them up and send them back inside. But Eli wasn't one of those assholes; if he'd been dogging Juice, he had a reason._

_A text pops up on her phone that immediately draws her interest. "Well, I'm going to go talk to Juice right now. You should come with me. But keep it quiet for now; I don't want to take this to Reese or Patterson until we're sure there's something there." Rising, she picks up her phone and a file folder, which she hands to Cane. "And take a look at these follow-up reports, we can talk about them in the car."_

* * *

><p>"You look like shit, Jax." Gemma glares at him as he walks into her kitchen where she's feeding the boys their breakfast. He bites back a cutting retort, mainly because he doesn't want to get into it with her in front of his sons; they're going through enough shit without their father and grandmother adding to the pile. And because he recognizes the worry and sadness in her eyes; it's not her fault that's he feels so goddamn lost that anger and alcohol seem to be the only way he can fucking cope.<p>

He greets his sons with forced cheerfulness, kissing Thomas' chubby cheek before ruffling Abel's hair. Pulling out the chair next to his oldest son, he sits down and braces himself for another round of silent treatment. Fortunately, Gemma hands him a large mug of black coffee; he'll need to down a gallon of this shit to lose the goddamn hangover pounding at his skull.

"What time are you taking them over to daycare?" he asks; Margaret had texted him that her husband could meet with Abel this afternoon. Despite feeling like complete shit, Jax can't help but smile as he watches Abel line up rows of milky Cheerios from his cereal bowl on to Thomas' highchair tray - which his baby boy promptly snatches up and shoves into his mouth. Gemma, Margaret and the daycare manager had all told him about their problems getting Thomas to eat; apparently big brother Abel's got no such trouble.

Gemma pours more coffee into his mug; shit he must look that bad. "You know, I don't have anything going on today so I thought about keeping them with me. Go to the park, make cookies, watch movies…Sound like fun, Abel?"

Jax frowns in irritation; he'd fucking told her he wanted the boys in daycare. However, he glances at Abel to gauge his son's interest; at this point, he'll agree to anything that'll put even the smallest smile on his little boy's face. But it's as if she hadn't spoken; Abel remains silent, continuing to feed his little brother the cereal from his bowl. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Jax rises and leads her out of the room.

"Goddammit, Mom," he whispers furiously. "I told you I want Abel to meet Margaret's husband. My son's hurting and maybe this guy can help." At her skeptical look, he loses his weak-ass control over his temper. "I'm fucking serious about this. Tara wanted them in daycare, that's where they go. If I find out they miss even one goddamn day, I won't trust you with them again…"

"Okay, okay…" Gemma throws up her hands in mock surrender. "Jesus Christ, Jackson. You don't need to threaten me. I'm their grandmother, I want what's best for them, too. And if you think that's some total stranger poking around in Abel's head then…Well, that's what we'll do."

Exhaling as his anger fades, he squeezes her arm. "Thank you."

She glances towards the kitchen before turning her gaze on him. "I talked to Unser this morning. He's been trying to use his connections with the sheriffs to find out where they are with the investigation, but so far no one will tell him a goddamn thing. I don't know if they're just keeping quiet or because they don't know shit - with those fucking clowns, it's probably that last thing."

She must've seen something in his face because her eyes narrow as she grips his cut. "What is it…Jackson, what do you know?" There's a strange desperation in her eyes that he's not seen before, but chalks up to the same rage-filled determination that's driving him.

"We're going to see Alvarez today. Word is that he wasn't too happy about us giving the guns to Marks and took out a few Niners to make his point. Happened the same day Tara died so we got to find out exactly how pissed he was at me…"

Sheer horror spreads across her face as her mouth drops open in shock. "What makes you think that this was some kind of revenge on you? It could've been some bad shit with a crazy patient from the hospital or it could've been some random attack. You can't start up a street war with the Mayans…"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Mom. Ever since Tara moved back home, pretty much every bad fucking thing that's happened to her was because of me, because of the Club. And this…" He closes his eyes as horrific images invade his mind - her blood soaked body in his arms, the autopsy photo of the multiple stab wounds puncturing the back of her head, the x-ray of her cracked skull... "Whoever did this knew exactly what to do to hurt me the most. And if it turns out to be Alvarez, well…I'm going to do more than just kill him. He knows me, he knew Tara. If he made her suffer to teach me some fucking lesson, I'm going to wipe out everything in his goddamn world."

"Jax, please." She grabs his arm as he turns to leave, her eyes wet and worried. "Don't do anything rash; you've got to think about your sons - they can't lose their father. Nero…"

"...will have to choose sides. Although I'm pretty sure where he'll land. He and Alvarez go way back. Look Mom, don't freak out over this. I'm just going over there to talk. For now."

Returning to the kitchen, he crouches between his boys. He squeezes Thomas' foot then swallows hard at the sight of Tara's beautiful green eyes staring back at him. Brushing away a piece of cereal sticking to his baby son's plump cheek, Jax plants a lingering kiss atop his head.

Then turning to Abel, he cups his oldest son's face and kisses forehead. "Hey buddy, I need you to do me a favor today. Margaret wants you to meet a friend of hers and Mommy's. It would be really great if you could talk to him because I know that when I'm really sad, I can talk to my friends - like Uncle Bobby and Uncle Chibs. Maybe Margaret and Mommy's friend can be your friend, too."

Something flickers in Abel's blue eyes and, for a split-second, Jax thinks he might've broken through, but then Abel turns his attention back to his cereal bowl and starts lining more Cheerios on to Thomas' tray. Containing his disappointment, Jax gazes at both his boys as he rises to his feet. "Daddy loves you both so much." Then nodding grimly at his mother, he walks out the door to start the rest of his day.

* * *

><p>If Jax needed a reminder about the Mayans setting up a charter in Stockton, he gets it loud and clear as they ride to the designated meeting site; it's not as if Alvarez chose the Comstock location to save SAMCRO the travel time to Oakland.<p>

Although Alvarez said it would be a couple of weeks before his new charter would be live in the port city, judging from the dozens of bikers wearing Mayan cuts riding the streets, Stockton already looks like home sweet home. Arriving at their destination - a run-down looking cantina swarming with Mayans - Jax orders Quinn, West and Montez to keep watch outside and for Tig, Happy and Ratboy to stay alert at the bar. Then Bobby and Chibs follow him to the private back room where the bartender said Alvarez's waiting for him.

Less than an hour ago, Jax'd told Gemma that any conflict between him and Alvarez would require Nero to choose sides. Walking into the dimly-lit room, he spots the Mayan President sitting at a large circular booth; it's more than clear who's sitting at his right.

Jax greets them with a nod as he slides into the booth while Chibs and Bobby sit down at a small table; their eyes trained on the Mayan soldiers standing by the door. "Looks like your Stockton charter's live." He accepts the shot glass of tequila that Alvarez slides in his direction. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"I'll always be an Oaktown boy." Alvarez sips his Reposado. "I've already picked someone else to lead this charter."

Jax's gaze immediately rests on Nero; angry bitterness filling him that his "friend" wouldn't have fucking told him something as massively troubling like taking over the Mayan's Stockton charter. Especially after Jax had trusted him with his plans for his family; plans he's told no one else.

"It's not me, Mano," Nero tells him quietly; his dark eyes sad, as if disappointed that Jax would leap to the conclusion that he had.

Alvarez darts glances at both men. "I met the new Sanwa Sheriff yesterday. Apparently she thinks that my past issues with that dead cop and with SAMCRO make me a 'person of interest' in a double murder. Usually, I don't give a shit about what people think I've done…I don't explain myself to fucking anybody."

He rubs his shoulder as if it pains him - or as if remembering the brilliant surgeon who'd diligently extracted the bullet that'd torn through muscle and bone, setting aside her own worry for Jax and terror over the death threat she'd received just that morning. "The Sheriff asked me where I was that afternoon; I didn't tell her a fucking thing because she hasn't got shit on me. But Nero thinks you should know - so for him and for the doctor, I'll tell you. Me and my crew were at a meet with Lin and his guys. You can take a guess on what we talked about."

Jax narrows his eyes, as he throws back the tequila, welcoming the burn as it slides down his throat. "Sorry but you got to understand that I'd have a hard time believing a goddamn thing coming from Lin. Given our recent history and all."

"He's not asking you to talk to Lin." Nero interjects quietly. "I was there, too. And that's why I'm here now…hoping that you'll believe me when I tell you it's the truth."

Alvarez picks up the bottle of tequila and refills Jax's glass. "You know how I feel about Marks getting control of the guns. Fucks up the balance; gives Black too much power and hurts me and my crew. Our business issues still need to be worked out…But whatever my troubles are with Marks and with you, I'll settle those with him and with you - with the Niners and with SAMCRO. No one else…not the cops and, sure as fuck, not an innocent mother of two little boys."

Jax frowns at Alvarez's words stir something at the back of his memory. He stares hard at the two men; despite the differences they've had, he knows that he can trust their word on this. Slowly, he nods.

Apparently Alvarez takes that as his cue to leave; rising, he clamps a hand on Jax's shoulder. "I'm sorry about Tara, Jax. I really am." He nods at Chibs and Bobby before leaving the room with the Mayan soldiers following in his wake.

But instead of leaving, Jax sits rooted to his seat as Alvarez's words bounce around his brain summoning the memory of another darkly lit bar, another potentially dangerous confrontation, another brutally murdered mother of two young children…

"_Someone went after one of my guys. Killed his wife by mistake…"_

"_Wasn't us." LaRoy replies simply. But Piney's on a mission; spewing his rage and his accusations that the Niners must've killed Donna because someone saw their "gangster SUV."_

_Despite the Niners' leader's cool demeanor through the old man's rants, Jax can tell LaRoy's patience's at an end. __"Our business issues still need to be worked out…But if my need to hurt SAMCRO took me to Charming, had me killin' women... Do you think we'd be sittin' here talkin'? I'm tellin' you the truth. Niners didn't kill your daughter…"  
><em>

Searching for Donna's killer launched a bloody street war between the Mayans and the Niners. Shit, he'd helped pin it on one of the Mayans in order to give Opie some closure; then framed the Niners to keep SAMCRO out of it because, in reality, the murderer was much closer to home.

If he's to believe the two men - which he does - then neither the Mayans nor Lin's crew could've killed Tara and Roosevelt. And Marks and the Niners have no motive; August Marks is smart enough to know that murdering Tara would enrage SAMCRO and destroy his new deal with the Irish (as fucked up as those Irish pricks are, they'd never countenance the savage murder of an innocent young mother).

Donna's death had been a mistake - a tragic case of wrong pace, wrong time; however, there's no fucking way Tara's death was any kind of an accident - the killer definitely knew who she was and what he was doing to her. Jax's blood freezes in his veins at the thought someone closer to home could be responsible.

"Jax…" He looks up to find Bobby and Chibs hovering above him then meets Nero's concerned eyes.

"I'm fine," he tells them all, sliding out of the booth.

"Do you still need me to meet you later?" Nero calls after him. Jax turns and faces the man who just prevented what could've been another bloody street war. "Yeah," he replies softly. "And thanks."

* * *

><p>"What was that in there?" Bobby pulls him aside as his other Brothers strap on their helmets and start their bikes. "From where I'm standing it's pretty clear that it wasn't the Mayans or the Chinese who killed Tara. But you got this look…You think they're lying?"<p>

Jax shakes his head; he really doesn't want to talk about this right now, he needs time to fucking think. "No…Just got some other shit on my mind…When we first hooked up with Galindo, I told Tara to get a safe deposit box for the cash. Gemma said that they talked to a friend of yours about cleaning it. Marco something…

"Marco DeNotti…Shit that was a while ago. You don't think…" Bobby wrinkles his brows in disbelief. "Dude's an old man Jax. Besides, the old geezer was crazy about Tara. There's no fucking way he could've or would've done that to her."

"I want to meet him." If anything, he's counting on the old guy to shed some light about the stacks of cash in Tara's safe deposit box, in case Rosen doesn't know or claims not to know. He's got no fucking clue what to expect or believe when it comes to his own lawyer.

Bobby eyes him questioningly then nods slowly. "He lives in an old folks' home in Lodi. I'll give him a call; we can swing by on our way home."

"Thanks, but I got some shit to deal with right now. Can you ask him if he can see me this afternoon? No offense, but I got to handle this personally." Bobby nods and steps aside to make the call.

Jax turns to Chibs and tells his VP to take over for the day - the guys have a lot of shit to do - and to keep an eye on Juice; they'd deliberately left the guy behind so he could continue collecting intel on Nick Reese and because Jax doesn't want the rat knowing more about their business than he already does.

After Bobby tells him the time and place for the meet with DeNotti this afternoon, Jax watches them all ride away. Ever since earning his Prospect patch, he's loved the thrill of riding in a pack with his Brothers, loved the oneness of the Sons of Anarchy. But now, like sitting at the head of the table, holding the gavel, wearing his President's cut - everything he'd ever wanted, or thought he wanted - he dreads it, maybe even hates it. The price was too fucking high.

He feels his cel phone buzz as a text pops onto the screen. His lawyer's ready to see him now.

* * *

><p>"Something you forgot to tell me?" Jax tosses the stack of documents he pulled from Tara's safe deposit box on to Rosen's desk.<p>

The lawyer picks up the papers, scanning the contents before staring at blankly at Jax. "Looks like Tara left you quite a bit of money. Congratulations."

"Cut the bullshit, Rosie. You walked away from SAMCRO years ago to chase bigger fish. It must've been a big fucking whale of a payday for you to come back now. The Club didn't hire you; neither did my mother. Who the fuck's holding your leash now?"

A tiny smirk tugs at Rosen's mouth as he leans back in his chair. "And if I don't tell you, are you going to fire me? Although, as you so astutely pointed out, I don't technically work for your Club, you mother or you. I guess you could always beat the shit out of me, but what'll that get you besides some temporary satisfaction?"

"Not that temporary," Jax snarls, a heartbeat away from shoving his fist into the asshole's smug face.

"Teller, believe me when I say this - I'm not out to screw you; actually, it's quite the opposite - the person who hired me, my real client, only wanted the best for you. And I'm committed to that." Rosen hands the documents back to him. "You can choose not to work with me anymore - that's your right, but you won't find anyone better…and I get paid either way."

Jax stares at the man he's known for most of his life; a man he's never been able to fucking stand but has always trusted when it came to helping him and SAMCRO. The asshole's right that Jax isn't going to find anyone better to help him navigate whatever shit the DA's office might throw in his path.

And, in truth, Rosen's the only lawyer he can trust with the shit he needs to do for his family. "Okay," he concedes. "But if you fuck with me, beating the shit out of you will be the nicest thing I'll do." Pulling another piece of paper out of his pocket, he slides it across the desk to Rosen. "How are you at family law?"

Rosen studies the instructions that Jax had written last night (before the Jack Daniels knocked him out) and nods. "Piece of cake. And I won't even charge you for it…except for the filing fees."

"You're a fucking peach, man. Call me when it's done." Rising out of his chair, Jax leans forward and extends a hand to his lawyer, who shakes it firmly. He's almost out the door when Rosen's voice stops him dead in his tracks.

"If you want to know who hired me…take some time to think about it, really think about it. Then you'll know."

* * *

><p>Throughout the years, SAMCRO's done a lot of business with the Italians so Jax's familiar with the ruthless dons and vicious enforcers, but no one he's ever met would've prepared him for Marco DeNotti. Jax's not sure what he expected a guy who cleaned cash for the mob to look like but it wasn't the tiny, stick-figured man in an over-sized Chicago Bears jersey sitting alone at a long table covered by newspapers and magazines.<p>

A huge smile spreads across the old man's face as he leaps out of his chair to greet Jax. "Bobby said you're Tara's husband. She talked about you A LOT," DeNotti gushes, clasping Jax's hand with both of his and pumping vigorously. "You're a lucky, lucky man."

Then as suddenly as it appeared, the man's smile and excitement vanish, his face crumpling with grief. "I heard what happened on the news." Motioning for Jax to sit down, DeNotti pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his eyes. "Who could have done such a thing? She was such a pretty girl. All she ever did was try to help people…She helped me with my arthritis. Even bought me this jersey, you see?" He pokes at it proudly. "We both used to live in Chicago, you know. Although not at the same time…I was born there; she went there for medical school. But you know that…" He dabs his eyes again. "Who could've done this?"

"We're looking into it," Jax replies simply, wondering how much time Tara spent alone with a goddamn Italian mobster for him to know so much about her. And evidently she did so without Bobby or Gemma knowing about it. "Look, the reason I'm here…"

"I know why you're here." The old man settles back in his chair, fixing his dark gaze on Jax. "I know what you found…"

After an hour spent with the mob's money man, Jax's head's spinning. On the surface, the old guy seems a little out his fucking mind - rambling back and forth about random topics - but Jax can tell the man's actually as sharp as a brand new switchblade. DeNotti may be known mostly for his creativity at cleaning cash, but apparently the old man's real talent lay in his ability to work the stock market like an ATM machine (legally, too, which was the real mindblower).

So in addition to laundering the cartel money for Tara, he'd invested some of it for her as well (under the radar to avert any attention from SAMCRO). He'd kept her investment profits in a blind brokerage account until she'd asked to cash it out for their family's move to Oregon, where she'd have the opportunity of a lifetime - neonatal specialist at one of the best medical practices in the country.

But of course, they never made it to Oregon. Jax grits his teeth, desperately trying not to get sucked in by the grief and guilt that'll be plaguing him for the rest of his life. Focusing on the old man's words, replaying them over in his head, he realizes there's something strange about the timeline. According to DeNotti, the day he gave Tara the cash was the last day he ever saw her; a couple of weeks later he'd read in his many newspapers that she'd been murdered.

When he and Tara had their fateful confrontation at the park, she'd been planning to take the DA's deal and go into WitPro. But why didn't she have the money with her? According to DeNotti, the cash's untraceable, she could've easily brought it with her; hell, she probably would've needed it since there's no way she would've been allowed to practice medicine. Yet all the cash and the savings account were still in the safe deposit box - and Rosen had the key.

And then suddenly the truth hits him with the force of an iron fist. _"If you want to know who hired me…take some time to think about it, really think about it. Then you'll know." _ Holy Shit. Holy Fucking Shit.

"You'll find who did this to her right?" Jax feels DeNotti's black eyes boring a hole into him, a chilling expression on the old man's face. "Do what needs to be done?"

Jax nods grimly, still reeling from his stunning realization; he needs to get the fuck out of there so he can process all the thoughts bombarding his brain. But before he leaves, he wants the answer to something that's been poking at him since meeting the man who's clearly more dangerous than he looks. "I guess I'm just a little surprised you didn't suspect me."

DeNotti chuckles and shakes his head. "Nah, Tara loved you, kid; lit up like sunshine every time she talked about you. I've never seen anything like it in my whole life. And I knew when I saw you that you were just as crazy about her. Which is a good thing because if I thought for a second that you might've done this…" The old man, pushes aside the pile of papers next to him to reveal a wicked looking dagger. "I would've cut your fucking heart out where you stood."

"I hear you, old man." Jax squeezes DeNotti's shoulder on his way out the door. "I hear you…"

* * *

><p>"<em>This one's from Tara…and Tommy." His mom hands him a neatly wrapped box, shooting a surprised look at his little brother perched on Tara's lap.<em>

"_Happy Birthday, Jax." Tara watches anxiously as he tears open the gift, squeezing Tommy's shoulder as the four-year-old grins proudly._

"_Wow! Holy shit…" Jax's eyes nearly fall out of his head at the sight of the scale model of his dad's Harley-Davidson FL Knucklehead housed in the small glass case. "Where'd you guys get this?"_

"_We made it!" Tommy pipes up, barely able to contain his excitement as he bounces up and down on Tara's lap._

"_Piney helped us find a model kit and we put it together for you," Tara explains, finger-combing Tommy's blond hair._

_Jax grins as he lifts the model out of the case and admires the perfect details; shit, she knows him well. If they'd given him just the kit, he would've loved it but most likely the parts would've stayed unassembled in the box; he's got more exciting things to do with his time. "I love it," he raves beaming at both his old friend and his little brother._

_He's not the only one who loves the gift; after he finishes opening all of his presents, Opie and a few other guys rush over to marvel at the perfectly constructed model – chattering about the day when they each can own a real Harley and be able to ride all over the country._

_It's the need for the bathroom that finally separates him from his prize, which he leaves in Opie's trusted hands. On his way back, he runs into Tara coming out of Tommy's bedroom; apparently all the excitement tired out his little brother. He talks her into going with him to get another piece of cake, but heading into the kitchen, they hear the spiteful voices._

"_I heard she ran around for months collecting cans like a homeless person to get the money for that stupid present…"  
><em>"_Well she should've used the cash to buy some new clothes. I swear she wore the same thing to school every day…"  
><em>"_Tara Knowles has never owned new clothes. Her mom bought everything at the Salvation Army…  
><em>"_Yeah, once I think I saw her wearing one of my old sweaters…"  
><em>"_Well, now that her mom's dead, she'll probably be searching dumpsters for cans and clothes…"_

_He's about to tell the nasty bitches to shut up and get the hell out of his house, when Tara charges through the kitchen door to fight her own battle. Green eyes blazing, she spears them with a look that would've made him squirm. "You know, if you bitches used your feeble brainpower on school instead of checking me out every day, then maybe you wouldn't have to cheat so much." Whirling around to Jax, she forces an apologetic smile. "I forgot I have to leave early. Please tell your mom that I said thank you, I had a great time."_

"_Tara wait!" he calls out as she marches out the door. Glaring at the three red-faced skanks, he makes a mental note where to put the family of spiders he and Opie discovered the other day before running out to chase after his friend. "Tara you don't have to go. I'll tell them to leave; can't stand those bitches anyway. Mom made me invite them." _

"_It's okay, Jax." She stops and smiles at him - which always, always makes his stomach flip-flop and his heart beat faster. "It's almost time for my dad to get home from work; I have to make dinner."_

_He nods reluctantly, wishing he could talk her into staying, but he doesn't want to get her in trouble with Old Man Knowles (who's a total asshole). "Thanks for the Harley model, it's the best present I got today." He swallows hard as her smile nearly blinds him. "I know you usually don't like going to these things, but I'm really glad you were here." For years, Tara's avoided going to birthday parties - even for her pal, David Hale - to the point most of their classmates stopped inviting her._

_But this year, she'd surprised him when she said she'd be at his party - unlike his dad, who's still in Ireland doing things more important than celebrating Jax's birthday. The sting of that disappointment must've shown up on his face because Tara surprises him again by pulling him into a bear hug. "Thanks, Jax," she whispers in his ear. He doesn't know how long he lets her hug him (and he hugs her back), but when she finally pulls away, it's actually hard to let go._

"_I'm sure he wishes he was here, too." She squeezes his hand and beams him one last smile before turning to walk home._

The scale model of his dad's Harley that Tara gave him for his birthday still sits in its original case - perched on the dresser in his childhood bedroom at Gemma's house; the perfect gift from the little girl who knew how much his dad's constant absences had devastated him.

And even when Tara planned to disappear into WitPro with the boys, she'd left behind enough cash for him to start fresh once he got out of prison. Provided he even went to prison…Not long after Tara got out of Stockton, he'd overheard Lowen telling her about Rosen's successful new practice, how he's not lost a case in years. He doesn't know how or when Tara managed to do it, but somehow when he needed it most, he's got one of the state's most successful criminal lawyer on his side.

It's ironic that, given all the promises he'd made to take care of her, she's always been the one who's taken care of him - ever since they were little kids. Even now.

* * *

><p>Sitting on his bed, Jax open the drawer to his nightstand and pulls out a rectangle redwood case he'd found in Tara's bags last night; it's a smaller version of the redwood strongbox where he'd stored hundreds of photos of her for years. After gulping down another long swig of burning whiskey, he opens the box - unaware that he's holding his breath until his lungs start to hurt.<p>

The first velvet lined layer contains all the necklaces that he'd given her throughout the years; he finds the one he's looking for - the golden circle pendant he'd bought her when they got back together not long after she returned to Charming. He traces the warm gold metal with his thumb, remembering the beautiful night he'd given it to his beautiful girl - then his eyes catch the gleam of another bright pendant he must've overlooked last night in his drunken stupor. Missing its chain, the small platinum disc might've been easy to overlook, but Jax recognizes the necklace immediately even though it's been well over a decade since he saw it last.

"_It's beautiful, Baby. I absolutely love it." He'd been searching the craft booths in Eureka for something special to give her when he saw the perfect necklace – simple yet incomparable, just like Tara. It cost him nearly every dime he made on the run plus all the weed he'd had on him, but at least the guy had thrown in the engraving. _

_Pulling out the silver chain, tears well in her eyes when she reads the inscriptions on the flat platinum disk. "Together," she whispers reading the engraving while he strokes her hair. "We're meant to be together, Babe." He drops a kiss on the top of her head. "That's what we've always said."_

_Nodding, she flips the disk around. "JT loves TKT?" She raises her eyebrows questioningly. "Tara Knowles Teller," he explains, lifting her hand to kiss her palm. "I told you that I'm going to marry you one day. That's a promise." Taking the necklace from her, he drapes it around her neck and locks the clasp._

The day she left Charming for college, she'd given him the gold bullet necklace that he's almost never removed; it'd been his link to her. He loves knowing that she'd kept the necklace he'd given her in a desperate attempt to keep her from leaving Charming, from leaving him. Lifting the pendant to his lips, he presses a soft kiss to the cool disc before slipping it into his shirt pocket with the golden circle pendant.

The contents of the box's second layer are equally devastating: a thick stack of opened mail held together with one of her hair bands - all of them sent from Stockton State Penitentiary; she'd kept all the letters he'd written to her during his fourteen months inside. Jax downs another long gulp of whiskey as he stares at the pile. There's no fucking way he can bear to read the words of his younger self gushing hopeful promises to Tara about the beautiful life he'd planned to give her and their family. Not now, probably not ever.

He shoves the box back into the drawer and tosses the half-empty bottle of Jack into the trashcan, not caring that it splashes whiskey on to the floor. Rising, he takes a deep breath, pats his pocket nestling her necklaces and walks out the door. It's time to say goodbye.


	8. Things That'll Keep You Whole

**AN: Warning, this is a bit angsty. I didn't watch S7, but I heard that KS didn't write much about Jax mourning Tara. If so, that SUCKS. Not in my world…**

**Special thanks to VDStar's "Final Embrace" for one of the ideas.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: THINGS THAT'LL KEEP YOU WHOLE<strong>

"_So what do you want to talk about…ma'am?"_

_Jarry studies the young biker sitting across from her in the booth; she can sense the anxiety he's desperately trying to hide under that casual fuck-you attitude so common with all these career criminal types. Interesting._

"_Current events." Flashing him a genial smile, she glances around the ice cream parlor which - until she and Cane arrived - had been empty save for Juice and some short, balding guy with weird-ass fake fingers. Casually, she asks him about his whereabouts on the date and approximate time Eli and Dr. Knowles were killed; if he's got nothing to do with it, then the date might not even register with him._

_However, the ever-so-slight widening of his eyes speaks volumes; he knows exactly what she's talking about. Of course, it's likely that everyone in the MC has that date tattooed in their heads; Dr. Tara Knowles may not have worn a patch or a cut, but she'd been involved with SAMCRO since high school when she hooked up with the future Biker King._

"_Do you really think I had anything to do with killing Tara and that cop?" Juice laughs incredulously. "You're fucking out of your mind, lady." He shakes his head, smiling coldly. "I was with a friend."_

"_Everyone always is…" Jarry pushes a small notepad and pen at him. "Do me a favor, write down the name of your 'friend' and where you were together. It's not that we don't trust you…Well, you know the drill. After all, this isn't your first dance with us law enforcement types."_

_Juice glares at them before scribbling on the paper and shoving the pad back at her. "Are we done?" If looks could kill…_

"_Yes. And thank you." Jarry's smile broadens; she'd noticed the slight tremble to his hand as he wrote down what was probably a big fucking lie. "We'll see you soon, Juan Carlos."_

_Cane's eyes follow their agitated suspect as he slams out the door. "Well that was interesting." He looks down at the paper, trying to read the nearly illegible scrawl upside down._

"_To say the least…" Jarry flips the note pad around so her deputy can see what Juice had written. Sliding out of the booth, she pockets the notepad. "Let's go. I have a feeling that the next meet's going to be a mother…."_

* * *

><p>After Opie died, there was no doubt how they would honor the Brother they loved, the Brother who sacrificed himself for SAMCRO: a wake at the Clubhouse that'd been his second home since childhood, a funeral procession befitting a long-time Member and son of one of the First Nine and a simple service at the cemetery where they laid him to rest next to his beloved Donna. And all throughout, there'd been dozens of mourners - Brothers, family, friends - to say goodbye. Despite the gut-wrenching pain of that day, Jax felt it'd been the perfect send-off for his best friend; one that he knew Opie would've appreciated.<p>

Saying goodbye to Tara, however, would be something else entirely. His quiet, private Tara wouldn't have wanted the pomp and ceremony of the SAMCRO funerals they'd attended for Donna, Sack, Luanne, Kozik and Opie - much less the attention garnered by a procession of all the different charters wearing their Sons of Anarchy cuts. No, his beautiful girl would've hated all that. Which is just as well; he's never liked sharing her, and today's no exception.

Skeeter ushers him into a small receiving room that's practically empty except for a few chairs and a long, dark wood cask atop a wheeled gurney. "Just let me know…uh…when you're ready." Pausing in the doorway, Skeeter opens his mouth to say something else only to clam up when Jax shakes his head and turns to the cask. The gravedigger must've correctly understood his dismissal as Jax hears the door softly click shut, leaving him alone with her.

Over the years, he's watched Tara sleep hundreds of times – always marveling at the smoothness of her skin, the perfection of her features. Most times she slept peacefully, looking so blissfully young and carefree; then there were times she'd be fitful and restless, her beautiful face crumpling with worry or fear. He'd always hated seeing her like that, knowing firsthand how torturous nightmares could be; so he'd wake her from those bad dreams and fuck her thoroughly until she'd fall asleep smiling, nestled against him. Now as Jax watches her sleep in permanent serenity, he wishes more than any goddamn thing for that perfect brow to wrinkle or those pink lips to frown.

"Hi, Babe." His fingers brush her pale, cold cheek. "You look beautiful." His eyes drink in the sight of her wearing "their" dress, which he dropped off to Skeeter earlier this morning; the dark green silk contrasting and complementing her porcelain skin. "But then you always do. I brought you something…" He pulls the gold necklace from his pocket and carefully threads it around her neck before locking the clasp.

Jax lifts her left hand and presses kisses to her engagement and wedding rings; Skeeter had asked him if he'd wanted Tara's rings and, for a brief moment, he'd considered keeping them for Abel and Thomas. But then he quickly changed his mind; no one else should ever wear her rings - especially the engagement ring that seemed expressly made for her.

Clasping her hand, he almost expects her to lace her fingers through his like she's done since they were little kids; flinching slightly when she doesn't. "I'm sorry I didn't bring the boys, but I didn't think they'd understand all this. They're not doing too good, Tara. They really miss you…maybe almost as much as I do." He strokes her palm with his thumb reassuringly. "But don't worry, Babe. They'll be fine…I have it all planned. We're all getting out of here soon. All of us."

He must've stayed there talking to her, touching her much longer than expected because he's startled by the soft knock and Skeeter's voice at the door. "Jax…uh…it's ready. We got to do this."

"Okay," he croaks hoarsely, his eyes never leaving Tara's face. "Give us a minute."

For the last time, he savors the sight of his wife's breathtaking face while caressing her cheek, her shoulder, her arm. "It's time, Babe," he whispers bending down to kiss her rosy lips, feeling his hard-fought composure cracking apart. "I love you, Tara. I love you so much."

Jax swipes at the wetness coating his cheeks before clutching her hand once again; his gaze drifting to the gold circle pendant resting on her chest. Tracing the cool metal with his finger, he presses one more kiss to her lips. "Full circle, Babe. We'll be together soon."

* * *

><p>"<em>Ice cream's on me, Teller."<em>

_Like nearly every day this week, he'd come to the cemetery to sit by his dad's grave stone; it's the only place he's been able to find peace since JT died. And he sure as fuck could use some peace right now, having just caught his mom having sex with Clay - just a week after they'd put his dad into the ground. Goddamn, he hates them both so much right now, but there's nothing he can fucking do except wallow in his grief and rage._

_But then he'd run into Tara, who'd gone there to put flowers on her mom's grave - only to give them to JT and Tommy. _

_Determined to cheer him up somewhat, she drags (ok, not really drags) him to the ice cream parlor to spend some of her allowance (i.e., money she steals from her dad to buy groceries) on "The Earthquake," a ridiculously awesome pile of ice cream scoops topped with chocolate, caramel, nuts, cherries and whipped cream._

"_I'm amazed you can eat this, Tara." The waitress lowers the heavy platter to the table and shakes her head, no doubt wondering how someone so small could eat so much. Jax's wondering that himself; he's never seen her order more than an ice cream cone when they'd come here in the past._

_Jax digs into the pile, shoveling a chocolate-caramel-pecan-whipped cream spoonful into his mouth. "Holy shit, that's good."_

_Tara smiles at the waitress, thanking her again before she walks away. "I was hoping you'd like it. They call it "The Earthquake" because it rocks your world." Closing her eyes, she moans in delight as she savors her ice cream then licks the caramel sauce off her spoon._

_Apparently his hormones don't give a shit about the sadness enveloping the rest of him as his dick surges to life while he ogles her like drooling dumbfuck; the ice cream's fucking nothing compared to Tara Knowles when it comes to rocking his world. Ever since last summer when he realized she had the most spectacularly fuckable body he'd ever seen, he's been trying to keep his crazy attraction to her under control. It's one thing to have her star in his x-rated dreams every night or to jerk off to the memory of her in that audacious bikini, but quite another to let her or anyone else know that he feels more for her than just friendship. Tara's been through too much shit in her life, she deserves a nice guy for a boyfriend - and he's definitely not boyfriend material. Fuck no._

"_So I take it that you've had this stuff this before." He grins at the whip cream on her nose as she eagerly digs back into the ice cream pile._

_Nodding, she dips her spoon into more caramel sauce. "Sometimes Hale and I come here after school to do our homework or study for tests. We've ordered this a couple of times after a big exam or particularly hideous project."_

_Jax's grin disappears as he feels his blood boil despite the cold ice cream in his mouth. Since they were little kids, Hale's always had a thing for Tara; shit, back in grade school, he and Opie used to laugh their asses off at the sight of Hale following her around like a pathetic, lovesick puppy. But somehow it's not so goddamn funny anymore. "Don't tell me you're going out with that shithead." _

_Her eyes widen, the spoon stopping midway to her mouth. "You mean like dating?" She shakes her head vehemently. "No, we're just friends. I've known him since I was five; it'd be weird…And FYI, David's not a shithead. If you actually tried to get to know him, you might actually like him."_

"_I do know him. I've known him as long as you have. And he's a total fucking shithead." Jax's temper eases then shoots back up within a matter of seconds. Although it's a relief to know that she's not hooking up with Hale, he's fucking annoyed that she thinks it's weird to date someone she's known since kindergarten. She's known HIM longer than that. Although, he may not want to tie himself down to one girl, he goddamn hates the thought that this one girl wouldn't consider going out with him anyway._

_Tara looks away - like she always does when gathering her thoughts - only to swivel back to him, green eyes snapping. She must've caught their image in a mirror because she starts wiping her nose with a napkin. "Some friend you are, Teller. How long were you going to let me sit here with whip cream on my face?"_

_He smirks at her, laughing when she wrinkles her nose and throws a walnut at him. And so for a few hours that afternoon he's happy again - forgetting the pain of his dad's death, forgetting that his mom's banging one of his dad's friends, forgetting everything except this beautiful girl with sparkling green eyes, a musical giggle and that dazzling smile._

* * *

><p>In his lifetime full of horrible, heartrending moments - some of the worst have crushed him in this very room.<p>

The last time, he'd charged in here looking for Opie - only to be painfully blindsided by the wrenching news of Piney's death; Jax'll never forget the broken anguish on his best friend's face as he clutched his father's cut and watched the flames consume Piney's cardboard cask.

However, as much as he loved Piney, the grief he'd felt that day fucking pales in comparison to the intense, piercing pain lashing at every inch of him as he stares helplessly at those flames engulfing the love of his life. He'd helped Skeeter slide the wooden box carrying Tara into the chamber, only to drop to his knees once the fire roared to life. This time he doesn't bother to wipe away the tears, letting them pour down his face as he squeezes the small platinum disk that had promised their beautiful future in his shaking hand.

* * *

><p><em>He can't stand to be in the house for another fucking minute. His dad's locked in his study again, probably drinking himself unconscious like he did last night; it's just as well because the times they've seen JT in the past couple of days, he's had nothing to say to anyone. Although as much as that sucks, his mom's worse - constantly hovering over him like he's some fucking breakable piece of glass; it's getting to the point where he can't turn around without her smothering the shit out of him. But the absolute worst…Jax swallows hard and stares at his little brother's closed bedroom door, knowing he'll never again hear Tommy laugh or chatter away about some little kid thing. Shit, he's got to get the hell out of here.<em>

_Jumping on his bike, he pedals furiously to Opie's house only to remember when no one answers the Winston's front door that it's a weekday; Opie's at school and Piney and Mary are at TM helping out while JT and Gemma mourn at home. Undeterred, Jax heads to their backyard; he can hang out there until he's ready to go home. If ever._

"_Jax, is that you?" He whirls around to spot Tara sitting on a blanket in the middle of her backyard, just like she and Tommy used to do. As he walks towards her, bile rises in his throat at the sight of his battered friend. Opie'd told him that he and Piney had to take Tara to the hospital the other night; apparently Old Man Knowles roughed her up pretty bad, to the point Piney had to knock him out to make him stop. All because Tara stole one of her dad's model cars to give to Tommy right before he died._

"_Are you okay? I thought you were still in the hospital." Jax plops down on the blanket next to her, staring in horror at the swollen purple bruises on her face and neck and arms not to mention the thick cast covering the lower portion of her left arm and pillow pressed to her stomach. "Opie told me what happened. I'm sorry this happened to you." Sorry your old man's a goddamn son-of-a-bitch._

_She shakes her head then winces slightly. "I'm fine. Dad checked me out yesterday; he said I could rest at home for free. How are you?" Her good hand reaches out to clasp his. "I'm really sorry about Tommy, Jax." She squeezes his hand before dropping it to swipe at the tears seeping out of her swollen eyes. "I can't believe he's gone. I miss him so much."_

"_Me too." Jax wipes his own eyes; then to distract himself so he doesn't cry in front of her, he checks out all the stuff piled on the blanket next to her: a box of Goldfish crackers, prescription pills, bottled water and a kitchen timer. "What's the timer for?"_

_Blinking at the abrupt change of subject, Tara glances at the timer as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Oh, I have a concussion. If I get sleepy, I have to turn in on to make sure I wake up."_

_Jax can't help but shudder as fear seeps into his brain; she can't possibly mean that she could go to sleep and never wake up…That can't happen, that can't fucking happen; he can't lose anyone else he cares about._

_Alarm must've been spread all over his face because she reaches out to touch his arm. "It's okay, Jax. I've been through this before, I know what to do." She manages to curve her swollen lips into a smile._

_His tense shoulders relax somewhat, although he still thinks it's fucking sad that a twelve-year-old girl would've suffered enough concussions to know how to take care of them. Then a horrifying realization washes over him. "All those times you said you fell off your bike or tripped and fell…It was your dad, wasn't it? He hurt you." The boiling fury that swamped him when he first heard about what happened to her returns with a vengeance. "Fuck it, Tara, he can't get away with this…Unser needs to lock him up so he can't hurt you anymore." Or someone needs to shoot the prick dead._

"_No!" She tightens her grip on his arm. "No, Jax. Dad told me that he's really sorry and promised he won't hit me anymore. You can't tell anyone…They'll put me in the system, and I…I can't leave. Everything I have is here. Please, Jax… Please don't say anything."_

_Torn, he stares at her bruised and swollen face. He doesn't want anyone taking her away either, but the thought of her living in that house where that bastard could hurt again makes him sick with rage and fear. "What about Piney and Mary? What'd they say?"_

"_Piney told the hospital that I was in a car accident. He doesn't want me in the system either. But he made me promise to tell him if Dad ever hurt me again. Dad's scared of Piney now…So please, Jax…swear you won't say anything."_

_He nods slowly, reluctantly. "Okay, but you have to tell Piney - and me - if that asshole ever lays a hand on you again. Promise right now, Tara." Once she does, he picks up her hand and squeezes it. "Tommy wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Me either."_

_At the mention of his little brother's name, they both grow quiet; remembering the sweet little kid he was. Gazing into the Winston's yard, grief overwhelms him again knowing he'll never again let his little brother chase him around that backyard or sit on this blanket and watch Tommy snuggle next to Tara while she read him all this favorite stories._

"_Jax, can you do me a favor?" He feels something nudge his arm and looks down at a battered paperback copy of "Where the Red Fern Grows." Glancing at Tara, he can't help the tiny smile that tugs at his lips. She loves this book, must've read it a million times; he'll never forget how she told him all about it years ago, lying next to him in the dark on the cold cave floor as they waited to be rescued. "I started reading it to Tommy, but we didn't get very far before…I'd like to finish it, but I'm having a hard time seeing the words."_

_Now it dawns on him why Tommy had started begging their parents for a dog (Jax'd done the same thing after the cave - although he'd been in too much deep shit with his parents to get anything but grounded), only to get shot down because his mom doesn't like dogs. Picking up the book, he pulls out the bookmark and tosses it to the ground. "Sure…but let's start at the beginning. I'd like to read the actual thing after hearing so much about it."_

_So for that day and many days after while they skipped school to heal, he'd go to her house and they'd read that book or another book or watch movies or play video games. And in those hours spent with her, he's a happy kid again - forgetting how much he misses his little brother, forgetting that his parents are barely talking, forgetting everything but how great it feels when she smiles at him._

* * *

><p>Like they planned, Nero's waiting for him - leaning against his truck as Jax rides into the cemetery parking lot and parks his bike. He'd barely climbed off before the older man pulls him into a bear hug, which Jax returns - grateful for the silent greeting; after the last few hours, he's fucking wrecked.<p>

"I brought what you wanted," Nero tells him then points his flashlight at a small burlap bag laying on the ground next to their feet. Jax nods his thanks and pats is friend's shoulder as they watch Skeeter arrive and emerge from his van.

"Sure you want to do this?" Skeeter asks him for what must be the hundredth time since Jax approached him with his plan. "Okay, okay…" Throwing up his hands when Jax shoots him a murderous glare, Skeeter opens the van door and pulls out the wooden urn that Jax'd chosen specifically.

"_That one." He points at the large redwood urn on display at the funeral home._

"_But Jax, that's a companion urn," Skeeter informs him. "It's for commingling the ashes of two people."_

_He runs his hand across the smooth wood, wanting to make sure it's worthy of her. "Does that have to happen at the same time?" As Skeeter shakes his head, Jax reaches into his pocket and curls his fingers around the small platinum disk. "Then it's perfect."_

Taking the urn, Jax watches as Nero picks up the burlap bag, then sets out to follow Skeeter through the dark graveyard until they arrive at the selected spot. The gravedigger flashes Jax one more skeptical look before he plunges his shovel into the ground. Because they're burying an urn - temporarily - he doesn't have to dig very deep.

"Okay, we can put it in now." Skeeter throws the shovel to the ground and reaches out for the box.

"I'll do it." Jax brushes past him, now carrying both the urn and the burlap bag he'd taken from Nero. "Give me a minute," he tells both men, who immediately walk a few feet away but continue to shine their flashlights so that Jax can see what he's doing.

Sitting down on the ground next to the freshly dug hole, he cradles the urn in his arms - beyond reluctant to leave it here. "I have to go now, Babe. But I promise, I'll be back for you soon; then you, me and the boys can get the hell out of here. In the meantime, I'm going to leave you in good hands…I love you, Tara." He presses a kiss to the smooth wood then gently lowers the urn into the hole.

Once again, he swipes the wetness from his cheeks before picking up the shovel and filling the hole most of the way. Opening the burlap bag, he pulls out the miniature rosebush and plants it above where he'd buried the urn. "You may not know this, Babe. But there's no such thing as a red fern. I guess it's just a legend we learned from our book. I hope red roses will do for now." He pats the ground, his fingers smoothing the cold soil. "Good night, Babe."

Rising, he turns and faces the grave marker.

_Thomas Wayne Teller_

"Take care of our girl, buddy. But don't forget…she's mine."

* * *

><p>"Thanks again for doing this, both of you." Jax breaks the silence as they walk back to the parking lot. "If anything happens to me, you know where she is. Where I'll need to be. And where we need to go. I already talked to Charlie…Maybe you think I'm crazy, but…"<p>

He can't see it, but he can feel Nero shaking his head. "No, Mano…I get it." He pats Jax's shoulder. "I get it."

"Me, too," Skeeter pipes in. "That's why I thought…It's really weird, but when I picked Tara up at the ME's lab, I thought I saw you with her."

Jax stops in his tracks and aims his flashlight at the burly man. "What did you say?" Coldness creeps down his spine; something tells him he might know what Skeeter saw.

"I walked into the lab – the ME said she was ready to go – and I saw a blond guy kissing her hands, then her face. Seriously man, I thought it was you…except, now I think about it, your hair's a lot longer than when I saw you last and…do you even own a tweed jacket?"

That son-of-a-bitch, that son-of-a-fucking-bitch; Jax grits his teeth and clenches his fists; he's going to murder that goddamn prick. Nick Reese's a fucking dead man. Pulling out his cel phone, he dials Bobby. "Get Juice to find Reese's home address. Fucking now."


End file.
